Crosshairs
by Desmothenes87
Summary: Neal receives a mysterious package in the mail. The contents brings to light a past Neal hoped would stay buried, and Peter learns how Neal became the skilled conman he is today. Some AU. Rated T for future chapters. Chapter 16: Sterling and Neal talk.
1. Epilogue - Photo In The Mail

**A/N: **I know Nativity is still incomplete and it will be finished in a couple days but I wanted to post my next story, just to see if there is an interest.

**YOU MIGHT WANT TO READ THIS FIRST.**

This is the next story in my Hidden Dragon verse. But before you keep reading, let me provide you with the following warnings since this story will be a little different than my other works.

**Warning 1:** This story will involve crossovers from several other shows. I don't think a strong knowledge of these shows is necessary to enjoy this story. I'm not going to tell you which shows yet, but I left clues in my other stories. For example see Chapter 11 of Hidden Dragon and Chapter 12 of The Nativity.

**Warning 2:** This story will also involve a little bit of fantasy. Nothing pertaining to cannon characters, and no Harry Potter wand-waving type magic in this story. It just helps explain some things in the storyline, and I allude to a favourite old legend.

**Warning 3:** For a non-cannon character I have been surprised how many people like Ender. If you don't think you can see him as anything other than a cute little boy, you might not like this one. This story will introduce Ender's history as well and some of it is a bit intense. It also intertwines with Neal's past. I based a lot of Ender's character on the book Ender's Game so that might give you a little clue on whether you want to continue (He is not the same character as the one in the book, I just like how he is written and borrowed some of Mr. Card's character ideas). He'll still be a cute, sarcastic kid, but with more of a past that I think explains him better.

So if you made it through all that and still want to read, please scroll down. This is simply the prologue. The actual story should be full a lot more action (and probably some whump) than my other stories, and will provide my own take on how Neal gained his skills as a conman. The next chapter will be posted as soon as Nativity is finished, which hopefully will be in the next four to five days.

* * *

**Photo in the Mail**

The nondescript manila envelope arrived by post on a Tuesday. It sat on the table by the front door after the maid received it around 3 pm. June delivered it to Neal's apartment that evening, setting the envelope on the kitchen table with what looked appeared to be a package from Mozzie and some junk mail.

Neal arrived home from another busy day of work around seven pm, picking up the mail and sorting through it. He opened the package from Mozzie first, expecting something pertaining to a case. Instead it was a new DVD about the link between the assassinations of John Lennon, Elvis, Marilyn Monroe and Bob Marley. A yellow post-it note was stuck on the cover with '_Don't share with the Suit_,' written in Mozzie's scrawl.

Neal ripped up the junk mail including several credit card applications. He was rather tempted to send one in just to see what sort of credit limit he was eligible for, but Peter monitored his credit history regularly, and the applications were in his real name.

Turning his attention to the last envelope, Neal slid a finger underneath the flap, tearing it open. There was no return address, which wasn't too unusual. A lot of advertisements didn't put the company information on the front cover, so a person was more likely to open the envelope and at least check out the contents before throwing everything away.

From the feel of the paper, it was a photograph, but the picture was facing down. Neal casually flipped it over and the envelope slipped from his fingers, skidding across the floor and under a nearby hutch. His heart rate sped up and Neal felt his breath hitch as he stared at the image before him.

The photograph was of Neal, and appeared to be taken as he was exiting the FBI office. He was with Peter who was walking to his left as they descended the front stairs. Over Neal's face, in red, was a sniper's crosshairs, and at the bottom were the words, "The Angel of Death Is Watching You Nealcen."

* * *

So what did you think? Reviews are loved.


	2. Conversations In The Dark

**A/N:** Thanks so much for all the amazing reviews for the prologue. I was flattered by how much interest there seems to be and I hope you won't be disappointed. I'm sorry I haven't responded to any reviews yet, I've been super busy, but I'll do my best to respond, especially if you have a question.

As stated before, I think this story will be different than other stories about Neal's past (Of course I haven't read every story so if it does it's a complete coincidence). It's my own intermingling of television shows, books and legends, that for some reason I wanted to fit together. I've adjusted some timelines and characters from the other shows so please just read with an open mind and know not everything will be cannon.

Like my other stories nothing should be extremely graphic but I will introduce some tough concepts and themes (No sexual abuse). I will do my best to place warnings at the beginning of the chapter if I think something might be offensive or triggery for readers.

**DISCLAIMER:** I am only borrowing these characters for my own use. No monetary gain is made by these stories so please don't sue me. because you won't get much.

* * *

**Conversations In The Dark**

Neal stood there for a moment, complete frozen, just staring at the photograph and the words. Then the startling reality of the situation became apparent as everything sunk it. It was like he was in a nightmare except he was currently wide-awake. His fingers trembled more with every second and Neal fought to gain control of his emotions and his shaking hands.

The picture quivered in front of his vision and he realised what a lousy job he was doing of controlling his nerves.

_Breath, just breath. In out, in out. One, two three, one two three._ Neal kept up and internal chant, trying to prevent the panic attack he felt welling up inside. _You're fine, you're fine. This doesn't mean anything. Just get a grip._

The words didn't seem to be working because Neal could feel his breaths becoming shallower and increasing in rhythm, all without conscience control.

He felt his chest heaving and his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst, and for a second Neal thought he was going to pass out when his vision blurred. Then, somehow – everything crashed back with startling clarity.

A second later Neal leapt into action, his movements born more out of intense conditioning than conscious thought. He ensured the French doors leading out to his balcony were shut and locked, double-checking both locks, before closing the blinds as tightly as possible.

From there he shut off most of the lights in the room, except one tiny lamp on a small table, allowing him enough light to keep from tripping around in the dark.

Finally he sat down in a chair, a good distance away from all exits and windows, so he could find a way to calm his mind. Neal's posture was slumped down a bit, and he nervously fingered the soft fabric of his trouser leg.

Sixteen years. It had been sixteen long years since he really thought about any of this. September 19,1996. One of the best and worst days of his entire life. For so long he had blocked everything out. Even after meeting Ender again, he had never really brought everything back to conscience thought. And now, with one picture, everything was falling apart. He didn't think Peter would ever forgive him when he found out.

* * *

_A young Danny Brooks clutched at his small duffle bag holding the few possessions he owned. At twelve Danny had not yet hit puberty, his features still soft and childlike, blue eyes sparkling with fear under a mess of brown curls. He was dressed in jeans, a plain white t-shirt and blue jacket with black converse on his feet. The clothes seemed strange. He was used to boots. _

_Staring out the window, Danny saw the neighbourhoods, with their rows of houses, drifting by. A house. What a strange concept. Would there be a yard, maybe a dog? What would everyone say when they saw him? Would anyone even recognise his face? What was he supposed to do now?_

_The car stopped and the driver got out, walking around to Danny's side and opening the door. For the longest time, Danny just sat there staring at the small white house with the green shutters. It looked very picturesque. _

_"Out you get son," the driver told him, holding out a hand. He helped Danny out of the car and the two began the walk to the front door._

_"Why couldn't I stay," Danny asked. "I didn't do anything wrong, none of us did. Why are they sending me away?"_

_"It's above my pay grade kid." The man replied and kept walking, placing a hand on Danny's shoulder to keep propelling him forward._

_Danny jerked to a stop, and stared up in the adult's eyes. He may respect most adults, but he stopped being afraid of them along time ago, and was used to speaking his mind. "It's not above mine."_

_The driver just laughed. "I can't tell you what I don't know. Now get going." He gave Danny a gentle shove. "Knock, they're expecting you."_

_With much trepidation, and a trembling hand Danny knocked. _

* * *

Neal wasn't sure how long he sat there in the dark, before a knock at his door sent him out of his seat and onto the floor.

Crouched on his hands and knees, Neal quieted his breathing, so it was no longer audible.

"Neal," a voice shouted. "You in there?"

Neal almost choked from relief. It was just Mozzie. He was so jumpy he couldn't even stand up to answer the door. "Come on it Moz," he called out, praying his voice didn't sound as jittery to Mozzie's ears as it did to his own.

He quickly shoved the photo underneath the nearest pillow and managed to get himself back in the chair before Mozzie opened the door and entered.

Neal heard the other man stop a few paces in. "Is there a localised power outage I don't know about, or is the Suit punishing you for that poker tournament you hosted. Because controlling electricity is the first step towards a Gestapo type takeover."

"Would you stop shouting Moz?" Neal stayed perfectly still, his back to the other man.

"Why are all your lights out Neal?"

As much as Neal wanted to say something, he wasn't about to get anyone else involved in this potential mess. Mozzie might want to run for the hills when he found out, or he might want to help Neal. Either way, Neal didn't need the added stress.

"I have a headache all right? The light was hurting my eyes, and your talking is not helping either."

Mozzie didn't seem to know what to say to that because he was silent for a few seconds. "Are you sure you haven't been submitted to any recent government experiments? Think back. Are you missing large chucks of time from our memory? Oh wait, I'll go get my metal detector and scan you for a secret government implant."

"I say I'm suffering from a migraine and you want to invade my privacy with your medal detector." Neal rubbed at his temples. The stress he was feeling at the moment was overwhelming and did start to make his head hurt.

"There was an article in The Semi-daily Sun just yesterday on this new implant able to send your thoughts to a supercomputer currently housed at Fort Knox. Some of the signs this occurred are supposed to be memory loss and sudden unexplained migraine headaches."

Neal snorted, then winced. "Isn't that a little fantastical, even for you Moz," he asked.

"Says the person who climbed into that Danish princesses room, just to check out the tabloid rumours that she had an extra…"

"All right, I'm sorry Moz. Could you please keep your voice down though?"

"Fine." Mozzie sauntered over and dropped into seat across from Neal who looked rather pale, even in the dim light. "Seriously Neal, are you all right?"

Neal rubbed at his temples again. "I told you, it's just a headache."

"So you turned off all the lights."

"It's a migraine. If you want a specific list of symptoms get on Google."

"Are you sure you don't want me to get my metal detector. I found this new handheld version that is supposed to not cause cancer, unlike most of the current models out there."

"I'm not missing any chunks of time from my memory. I think I'm okay."

"If you're certain." Mozzie shrugged then rose back to his feet. "June said she sent up some new bottles of wine. I heard there was a 2002 Bordeaux from Medoc."

"They're over there with the rest of the bottles." Neal motioned vaguely in the direction of the wine rack. He was hoping that if there was a plan to kill him that evening the person would have fired already, but there was also the change they were waiting around to stress him out.

"Found it." Mozzie called from over in the corner. "Want some?"

"Uh, migraine."

"Right." Mozzie shrugged and returned with his glass. "More for me."

"Did you want something, or are you here just for the free booze."

"That guy you were looking for, Anders. He has some private yacht he owns under a shell corporation." Mozzie held ups a small index card with writing on it. "Probably the way he's planning on leaving the country."

Neal was not in the mood to think about anything let alone a case. "Peter will be thrilled."

Mozzie sipped his wine and took in Neal's pale face. "You sure you shouldn't see a doctor or something. I mean, even though most doctors are just part of the secret KGB, looking for every opportunity to infect unsuspecting people with unknown viruses, does not mean they're aren't a few who actually offer semi-legitimate treatments."

"I took an Excedrin." Neal just wanted Mozzie to leave so he could wallow in misery. He was going to count the hours until his imminent demise. He just hoped whatever happened it was quick.

* * *

**A/N:** Actually a bit shorter than I expected, but hopefully increases the whole mystery. The story will be a mix of the present day, along with flashbacks to the past, which will help explain the current situation. If anyone every wants to make guesses about Neal's past, or other shows you think might be introduced, you're welcome to do so. I've done a lot of planning for this story, so if something seems like a clue, it probably is.


	3. Neckties and Nobodies

**A/N:** A fun little snippet with Peter, Ender and El because it seemed to fit right here, and this story will have so many serious topics it needs some humour. I'm sure there is someone out there who can sympathise with this situation.

But for everyone else interested in the main plot, not to worry, there is still more here about Neal's past in the form of another flashback.

* * *

**Neckties and Nobodies**

"Stop it! Stop it, you're choking me!" The words were voiced several decibels above what Peter considered acceptable, because at that volume glass could shatter.

"Just hold still I'm almost done." Peter had the half-Windsor knot partially tied when Ender yanked back and he lost his grip on the tie.

"I can't breath." Ender wailed, using his own smaller hands to try and pull Peter's away. "I don't want to wear a tie, it's like a noose around my neck. I'm going to die."

"Stop being so dramatic." Peter reached for the tie again, only to be hindered by two tiny hands with fingernails digging into his own.

"This isn't fair. I don't understand why you're being so mean to me." The kid was struggling, and sobbing, trying to yank the piece of fabric off, as Peter tried to adjust it back to the proper position so he could tie the knot.

"It's part of your school uniform, and it's not that bad. I wear a tie." Peter was really starting to get frustrated by this. Ender hadn't had a full blown temper tantrum since they'd first brought him home.

Ender didn't seem comforted by this piece of information. He wailed louder, and folded his legs underneath him, dropping down to a sitting position on the floor to hinder Peter's efforts.

After a couple attempts to force the kid stand again, where Ender stubbornly held his legs up in the air, Peter gave up and sat him down on the bed, pressing his own knee against the kid's legs and effectively trapping him. He would be the adult in this situation and not lose his cool, as much as he wanted to pop the kid one across the face.

"Neal wears a tie." He pointed out above the screaming. His parenting books had recommended using positive peer-pressure when faced with a difficult situation where the child did not want to cooperate. Ender liked Neal, and liked his hats, so why not a tie.

Ender had either read the book and the advice was now moot, or the tips were pretty useless because the kid just sobbed harder now that he was unable to pull away from the bed. "Neal steals stuff for a living, you're always saying not to listen to him, and now you want to make him the shining example of who I should act like?" He screamed.

"Just hold still." Peter was almost finished when he lost of the knot again. "Oh for the love of…" He almost swore. "Hasn't this school ever heard of a clip-on?"

El peaked her head around the door. "How's it going?"

Peter just gave her a look, and then mouthed, "Can I tie him down."

The woman chuckled. "Ender you're wearing the tie no matter what, the more you cry the worse it gets."

"I don't care." He sulked, and then managed to fling himself backwards so he was now laying on the bed, and as far away from Peter as possible.

Peter just held up his hands, flexing his fingers a few times, as if he was trying to calm himself down.

El shook her head and climbed onto the bed, pulling the kid into her lap. "Are you intentionally making life difficult for Daddy, or are you just nervous about your first day of school?"

"The tie is choking me. I don't get nervous." Ender curled up and instantly the thumb went in his mouth.

"Well maybe if you didn't thrash all over the place like a fish on dry land, the tie wouldn't choke you."

"So this is my fault?" The kid demanded, from around the thumb.

"I think you definitely have a hand in it. Now you can choose, either daddy ties it or I do but either way, you're wearing the tie."

There were a few shaky breaths where Ender obviously tried to calm himself down. "I'll let daddy tie it if you hold me."

El's eyes narrowed. Ender wasn't allowed to make deals when he was given a choice. But this time it wasn't exactly like he was changing anything by his demand. "I'm already holding you, so why would that stop if daddy ties the tie."

A long moment of silence and then the kid's arms fell to his sides. His eyes watched Peter's hands the entire time, practically cross-eyed, when Peter pulled the knot up to his throat. At that point the agent placed a finger between the kid's skin and the collar to ensure the knot wasn't too tight.

"You look very handsome." El told him.

The kid took a few experimental breaths, as if to test out his oxygen supply. Suddenly he jolted up straighter. "Who will walk Cafall while I'm at school?" Cafall was Ender's min pin puppy he gotten for Christmas. No one could figure out the significance of the name, and when asked Ender gave a typical Ender response. "It's him."

"Cafall will be fine. He'll stay in the kitchen, and he has food, and water, and his bed and the puppy pad."

"May be I should stay home, just in case." Ender stalled. "He'll get lonely and cry, and then the neighbours might call the police because they think you're abusing him.

"May be you should quit stalling and get your bag." Peter picked him up and pointed him in the direction of his own room.

"You're a slave driver." Ender struggled till he was put on the ground, then he stalked out of the room.

* * *

Neal carefully placed his hat on his head and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he did everyday. Well, if you didn't count the bags under his eyes that looked like little bruises. He wondered for a second if he should try to do something to cover them up, then thought would might make Peter more suspicious then if he just alluded to a late night with a girl.

The ping of his cell phone told him Peter was out front, and not in the mood to wait.

At front door, Neal took a deep breath, and cautiously stepped outside. There was a momentary pause where he just stood there waiting for the brief sting of the bullet before his life ended right there at his own door. When nothing happened he carefully glanced around looking for any sort of reflective shimmer caused by the sun's rays bouncing off a gun scope. There wasn't actually a good sniper spot around, considering the park was just across the street and other buildings had a bad angle, but Neal was still nervous. A good sniper could still take him out.

Peter honked impatiently and Neal hurried towards the car. He flung the door open, climbed in and was met by the sounds of wailing.

Now that Neal looked over, he saw Peter gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white, and his stare was fixed forward with a tense look on his face. Glancing behind, Neal realised Ender was in the back seat, tears streaming down his face, and he was sobbing hysterically.

"Okay?" Neal commented, slightly confused by the whole scene "Did you accidentally kick Cafall or something?" There was one upside to this entire mess. Peter wouldn't notice anything was wrong.

"He's nervous about his first day of school." Peter grit out, with the air of someone trying to sound much calmer than he actually felt.

"At least he's expressing his frustration without physical violence." Neal felt the need to point out.

Peter just glared at him. "You're not helping." Then the agent finally seemed to have enough because he shouted. "Ender, stop this game. I don't know what's wrong and I really don't care anymore. So stop your crying. You can't take the tie off."

There was a brief pause followed by some choking noises. Neal glanced back expecting a perfectly calm face. Instead the kid's cheeks were still smeared with tears, and he was sucking furiously on his thumb, his face distressed.

"You really shouldn't yell at him so much." Neal stated matter-o-factly.

Peter made a frustrated grunt, as if to shrug Neal off. "He's been crying non-stop since 5:30 this morning. After almost two hours, my ears have had enough."

"Believe it or not I used to hate dressing up," Neal stared out the window and watched the city pass him by.

"You? Seriously?" Peter sounded amused, like Neal was pulling his leg just to ease the tension of the situation. "I though you were born wearing vintage trilby hats and three piece suits?"

Neal just shook his head and laughed. "You had to hold a gun to my head to get me to wear one."

* * *

_"Danny," the women snapped. "Stop pulling on your tie. You want to look smart when the people come."_

_"I don't like ties, it feels like I can't breath," Danny whined._

_"Don't be so melodramatic," she yanked his hands away and pulled the knot uncomfortably tight. "This is a big deal, so don't blow it. If these people like you they'll give you a new home."_

_"But I want to go my home. Why can't I go home? I want to go back to my mommy." Danny stood there crying, while the woman smoothed his suit jacket and straightened his tie. _

_"You're mommy couldn't take care of you, we told you that already. That's why the nice people took you away." Although the words were probably meant to be kind the tone of voice certainly wasn't.  
_

_Danny just cried harder, tears trickling down his small cheeks. _

_There was a knock on the room door and suddenly the woman latched her hand to Danny's upper arm, causing the kid to flinch. "They're here. Now stop crying, so they'll like you." She pulled him through the doorway and into the next room._

_Danny stumbled next to her, trying to keep his feet under him, and match her swift pace. His legs were much shorter, and it was difficult._

_Tears still clouded his vision, and he stared at the tips of his shoes to avoid having to look at anything, or anyone else._

_"Is that him?" He heard someone ask. The voice was kind and gentle. A woman's voice, but not the person who was holding his arm._

_"His names Danny Brooks, five years and seven months old," someone else said. "He's forty-two inches and thirty eight pounds."_

_"His WISC was 160+?" Another voice, this time a man but Danny didn't recognise him. _

_"Good little artist too. And, he's pretty athletic."  
_

_"He's not an orphan." Danny heard the man say._

_"Mother's considered _non compos mentis_. She was diagnosed with clinical depression a few months and is unable to take care of him. Social services took him when the kid showed up to kindergarten without a lunch a week in a row. But the father signed, requested this in fact."_

_"It says here the kid's in WITSEC?" The man asked. _

_"HQ wants him. They said they'd take care of it."_

_"We still get the final say, not HQ. We don't take this decision lightly. It will change his life." The first woman, the one with the kind voice had rejoined the conversation._

_Shadows danced around on the floor as people shifted about in the room. Danny just studied his shoes. They were white with a black design on them.  
_

_"Just make up your mind, because if you don't want him we need to send him back, and tell the father."_

_Danny kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He had no idea what was going on, and too scared to ask. Two women had walked into his kindergarten class several weeks ago and taken him with them. Then, without telling him anything, they dropped him off in a home with a bunch of kids and some mean parents who yelled a lot. _

_He'd been there almost two weeks when one of the other kids cut up his favourite toy, a toy lion name Leonardo, and stuffed the pieces in the toilet. Then the father had hit him across the face for crying about it. _

_The next day the smiling women were back and they took him to a new home. And now here he was ready to be sent somewhere else, when all Danny really wanted was to go to his real home. Not that mommy took particularly good care of him, but at least he knew where he was. _

_And every once in a while, Ms Ellen came around to see how he was doing and draw pictures with him._

_Suddenly someone was kneeling in front of him and Danny felt a hand pressing at his chin till he was forced to look up into the person's eyes._

_It was a young woman with delicate features, light blond hair and pale blue eyes. She was smiling at him, but studying him at the same time._

_Danny stared back, unable to take his eyes off her. Her face had a kind expression._

_"Hello Danny." Her voice was gentle. "I'm Domrémy and this…" she gestured to a man standing behind her. "…is Haidren."_

* * *

"Neal…Neal…NEAL!" Neal jerked forward again, and then whipped his head to the left, following the sound of Peter's voice.

"There's no need to shout Peter." Neal sounded peeved.

"Really?" Peter looked at him amused. "Because I've been calling your name for the past five minutes and you were off in la, la land or something."

Neal gave a careless shrug. "Just thinking."

"Anything important." Peter looked over and Neal cringed, praying Peter would keep his eyes on the road.

Then Neal noticed the distinct lack of noise and glanced at the backseat, which was now empty. "Where's Ender?"

Peter gave him a raised eyebrow. "I dropped him off ten minutes ago. You seriously tuned out that whole fun conversation? He called me the Spawn of Satan, and then slammed the door as he left."

Neal couldn't help but smile despite the tension he was feeling. "I had a migraine last night. Not a lot of sleep. And he's right about you, you know."

"We're still a few miles from the office, you seriously want to tick me off, because that's a long way to walk ."

Neal gave him a smirk. Peter liked to make threats, but he usually wouldn't carry out anything made during their usual banter. "Only if you don't want to find out how Anders is leaving the country."

Peter smiled then looked him over, eyes concerned. "Do you want the day off? Even though this is a work release you're not a slave Neal. I won't make work if you're sick."

"Nah," Neal shook his head. The idea of sitting alone in that house was worse than working. All he would do was fantasize about ways he might die. "I'm feeling better, just a little tired." He looked over and cut Peter off before he could keep asking questions. "Peter I'm fine. I want to get Anders."

"You just don't want to miss out on that dinner party tomorrow." Peter laughed and faced forward again, much to Neal's relief.

"Anders like models."

* * *

**A/N:** So what did you think? I promise it will all make sense, and if it doesn't, ask me and I'll try and explain some of my thoughts. I've realised as I've read people's reviews that things make sense to me because I know that backgrounds but might be very confusing to the readers.

This story is definitely flowing better than Nativity so writing has been going well, although I still don't know how long it will be or if I'll be able to post as regularly as I have been. Classes will be starting again so that will affect things.

I thought I'd post a snippet of conversation, sort of like those trailers at the end of episodes, so people can see what's coming next week. I don't think this will be next chapter, but it will be in the next few. Might not do this every chapter, but this scene popped into my head and I had to get it written before I forgot, so scroll down for a tiny little piece.

Also, this might give you a picture of some of those themes some readers might not like, so if this freaks you out, I am recommending you don't keep reading this story.

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**"You should have told me." Ender stared at his reflection in the mirror, but Neal could tell he wasn't really looking at it.**

**"He'll never stop until he kills us Danny," the kid continued just staring off into the distance, his posture rigid and his eyes glassy.**

**"Unless we kill him first." Neal told him.**

**"Unless I kill him first." Ender amended.**


	4. Flashbacks and Mortgage Fraud

**A/N**: Thanks so much to all the reviewers as well as people who are just following or reading the story. I really appreciate you investing some of your time reading this humble little work of fiction.

I will admit between Neal's flashback, and the snippet at the end things are getting intense, so if readers want to hop off the train at this point I won't be offended. Be aware the story will continue getting darker. Nothing in the future should tip the scales to M, but yes, there will be this kill or be killed theme going.

If anyone sticking with the story wants a clue about some of the crossover characters Domrémy and Hadrian are both pseudonyms for the character's real names. If you figure out the significance of those names (Google should work) you might be able to figure out the characters. I'll even give you another hint; those two characters are from the same show.

* * *

**Flashbacks and Mortgage Fraud**

Neal got out of the car, and tried to get into headquarters as fast as possible, without looking like he was rushing. It was a difficult job, attempting to look casual, but at the same time maintaining a hyperawareness of his surroundings, while speed walking to the building.

There wasn't much that got by Peter and Neal really didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of his intense interrogations.

Neal couldn't decide if it was fortuitous or not, but today Peter was still preoccupied with being called the Spawn of Satan and not really paying attention to Neal's agitated demeanour as they walked up the stairs and into headquarters.

By Peter's spaced out look, Neal briefly wondered if the agent would even if Neal keeled over dead, but decided it wasn't worth that happening just to find out. Because as Ender liked to point out, death was permanent.

Once on White-Collar's floor Neal took a seat at his desk and tried to feign interest in a couple mortgage fraud cases.

Peter headed up to his office still muttering to himself about clip-on ties and the high cost these days of a premium education.

Neal was too stressed out to pick a fight, and decided this was not the time to point out Ender was attending his fancy prep school on a full scholarship, but then again Peter may not be grumbling about the money aspect.

For the longest time Neal just stared at the same spot on the page. He couldn't even remember what he was reading, and the words began to blur together until all he saw was a white page with some black lines across it.

His mind was whirring back and forth, trying to make a decision one something he'd already made up his mind about. _Tell, Peter…don't tell Peter. _ It really wasn't an option, but a part of him wanted to pretend it was.

Peter probably understood Neal better than most people. He may not like Neal's need to run a con, or forge a priceless painting, but at least he partially understood why he did the things he did.

Why Neal took three different law enforcement agencies on a merry chase across four different continents just because he could. Why Neal sent Champagne and caviar to the surveillance van when the agents inside wanted nothing more than to arrest him. And why Neal was willing to risk his life on con after con, when there were safer and less hands on ways to get what he wanted.

Neal couldn't walk away from a challenge, and Peter knew this because Peter was the same way.

But this, Peter wouldn't understand this. Heck, Neal didn't exactly understand it himself so he couldn't expect anyone else to. The strange thing was Neal didn't regret his childhood, as messed up as most people might claim it was.

He could just image what the average person might say. He was suffering from PTSD or Stockholm syndrome. But despite the fact that Neal had been so young when he was taken away, he always felt like he had the final say in the matter.

Besides, he wouldn't be the person he was today if they hadn't and he liked who he was. So what was there to regret?

* * *

_The woman with the blond hair and kind face helped Danny into the car, climbing in after him. The man shut the door and then climbed into the front passenger seat._

_Danny buckled his seatbelt and looked around the interior, since he was too short to really see out the window. It was a nice car. The seats were made of leather, and the inside looked brand new. Danny hadn't been in a new car before; even his father's police car had been used by someone else before his father owned it. _

_The lady helped Danny buckle his seat-belt and the car started moving._

_Danny bit his lip to keep from crying, but a few tears trickled down his cheeks. "I want to go home," he finally cried, swiping his fists at the tears, so they smeared across his face.  
_

_"Sweetie, I know." The woman soothed. "But you can't. Your mommy just isn't able to take care of you right now."_

_"She's a good mommy, she's just sad because my daddy died." Danny told her. He wasn't sure why he thought he had to defend his mother to a complete stranger, especially since his mom hadn't done the greatest job of looking out for him when he was at the house. But she was still his mother and he loved her.  
_

_"Your daddy died a hero." The woman told him._

_Danny paused for a moment and nodded. "How did you know that?" He asked in a quivery_ _voice.  
_

_She smiled. "I know a lot about you. I know your very smart. I know you like puzzles. And I know you like to draw." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper that she opened and showed to Danny. It was one of his drawings, one of a puppy chasing a ball. The detail and complexity of drawing was evident. "You're very good," she concluded._

_"I like to draw," Danny sniffed. "My daddy said putting a picture on a page is like capturing a memory so people never forget it."_

_"Do you like any other kinds of art?"_

_"I like to paint, but mommy doesn't like it because it's messy." Danny took the drawing and just stared at it. It was just a random dog he had seen at the park, but he drew it because he wanted a puppy. His mother refused saying they were too much work, but before his father had died, he had promised Danny he could have a puppy for his birthday. Now he guessed he wouldn't get his wish._

_The woman turned to face him a little more. "What if I told you we were going to a place where you could paint and draw and learn anything else you wanted to know about art? Would you like that?"_

_Danny paused to consider this. A place where he could do art as much as he wanted and no one cared? Was there a place like that? Is that why his mommy was letting them take him? "Is it like a school?" He asked cautiously._

_She nodded a bit, as if partially agreeing. "It is a school. One where you'll learn about art and science and math, and anything else you want to know."_

_"Can I have a dog?" Danny asked hopefully._

_The man in the front seat snorted and the woman turned and glared at him. "No dogs allowed I'm afraid, but you can have your own paints. And there are lots of other children there to make friends with." _

_"What about mommy? Can I visit her sometimes?" _

_Danny always knew something was up when adults didn't answer right away. The woman bit her lip for a moment, her face sad._

_"You won't be able to see her for a while, but she'll be safe. We'll make sure she's okay."_

_"I think my mommy's sick." Danny suddenly thought out loud. "She looks sick. Some days she just spends all her time in bed. Do you think maybe you could make sure she sees a doctor?"_

_There was another pause, and then the woman nodded. "I think that sounds like a good idea Danny."_

_"If my mommy gets a doctor then I'd like to go to your school, I want to be an artist one day."_

_"I think one day Danny, you'll be one of the best artists in the world."_

* * *

A file slammed down on the desk, and Neal jerked upright. He really needed to get his head back in the game and stop jumping at everything, or people would get suspicious.

Judging by his face Jones looked surprised by Neal's response although if it had been Diana she would have looked smug.

"Nothing like a few mortgage fraud cases to put you to sleep." Neal laughed off his response.

"Sure you're okay Caffrey?" Jones looked a bit wary of Neal's carefree response. It wasn't everyday someone caught the man off guard.

"Not a lot of sleep last night. Migraine."

Jones whistled. "Nice of Peter to force you to work. You can tell him you know. If you're sick. He's not a monster."

Neal shrugged nonchalantly. "He knows. I wanted to work today."

"The dinner party?"

"Anders's invited about fifty models. I'd be a fool to pass that up." Neal grinned, feeling a little more comfortable now that he had something to distract Jones.

"Some guys get all the luck." Jones muttered. "Oh and a present for you. Credit card scam." He nudged the folder a bit.

"Oh joy." Neal muttered and pushed it away in distaste, as Jones laughed and walked away.

* * *

El arrived home from work about mid-afternoon. She had a reception in the evening at a small gallery and wanted to take a break before setting everything up. The mail had arrived and she took it from the box as she walked by, juggling the envelopes, her bags and the keys while unlocking the door.

The reception was supposed to be pretty simple. A newer gallery in Manhattan was hoping to boost clientele by hosting the reception and inviting some potential clients from the wealthier side of New York. While El never considered her and Peter wealthy, she hosted enough events for the upper crusts she was still comfortable interacting in that world, and knowing what they were looking for in a gathering.

Dropping her Louis Vuitton bag on the couch El began shuffling through the envelopes. Elizabeth wasn't one to care strictly about designer labels, but the bag had been a gift from June on her birthday and she had to admit it was nice to own a piece like that. What woman didn't love a Louis.

There were a few bills that she dropped on the small desk for Peter, who kept track of the checkbook, and a few pieces of junk mail which were ripped up and tossed into the trash bin in the kitchen. The last piece was a manila folder addressed to Timothy Burke.

Probably another list of school supplies, or after-school activities that cost a fortune. She and Peter wanted Ender to have the best, probably like any parent wanted for their child, but she had never really appreciated just how expensive it was to ensure children had the best opportunities. She wasn't even like one of those film stars who had to have her child dressed in designer labels every time he was seen in public. But a quality education was the key to a good future, which was why she and Peter had enrolled Ender in a Manhattan private school. After seeing the kid's test scores they had offered him a full tuition scholarship, but other costs were still expensive.

She ripped the envelope open and pulled out the contents, flipping the paper over to see the other side. The paper almost slipped from her hands and she barely kept it in her fingertips. It was a photograph of Ender, with a crosshairs over his face, and the words "You're going home on ice," written in red at the bottom.

* * *

When they had first been married Peter and El would call each other every lunch breaks to check in and see how the other one was doing. That had earned him quite a bit of ribbing from the other agents but Peter really didn't care. It was a nice pattern to the day, and it let El know he was safe.

As their schedules both became more hectic the phone calls became less frequent, but Peter still enjoyed hearing his wife's voice whenever he could. A decade of marriage later and nothing had changed.

So Peter didn't think anything was out of the ordinary when he answered the phone, while signing off on some paperwork for Neal's dinner party op tomorrow.

"Hey hon, how are the plans coming for that gallery thing tonight?"

There was a brief breath and then El spoke, sounding panicked. "Peter. Someone sent us a photo in the mail of Ender."

Peter didn't quite understand why this would cause a problem, but El normally didn't panic without a reason. "I thought June was going to send over those pictures from Samantha's party? Are they blurry or something? Because we can just take new ones."

"Peter it's a picture of Ender with one of those gun, scope, picture things over his face." El's voice had raised several decibels. "They wrote the words 'you're going home on ice' at the bottom. In blood or something, the words are all red."

Peter was definitely confused by where this whole conversation was going. It almost sounded like a joke, except El would never find something like this funny. "Okay, hold on hon. Someone sent a picture of Ender in the mail with crosshairs over his face? Actual crosshairs?"

She didn't respond directly to his question but suddenly launched into a panicked ramble. "What do I do? I touched the envelope. Is that bad? Do you need to dust it for prints? He's in school. Oh my god, what if someone tries to hurt him while he's there?"

As much as Peter felt like having a panic attack right along with her, he forced himself to remain calm. "El stay put, I am sending agents to get you from the house and him from school. They'll be there in about twenty minutes. Just stay away from the doors and windows until they get there. Do you understand?"

"I get it…I get it…Just tell them to hurry." Her voice was all breathy and Peter could tell she was in tears.

For a brief second Peter just sat there staring at the receiver before slamming down the phone and jumping into action.

"Diana, Jones are you busy?" He barked.

"We were just heading to lunch, what do you need boss?" Diana was watching him cautiously, like he was ready to ask her to rewrite a case report before she left.

"I need you to take two agents and go pick of Ender from school. Right now. Jones I need you to go get my wife from our house and bring both of them here."

"Peter, what's going on?" Jones looked confused.

"El just called to say someone sent us a photo of Ender in the mail with crosshairs over his face. I don't know if this is a joke, but I don't care. Get them and bring them here now."

Both of the agents seemed to freeze as they took in the news.

"Go! Now!" Peter yelled sending them off in a scurry. Other agents turned to see why their usually calm boss was suddenly screaming at two of his most trusted agents.

"Peter what's going on?" Neal stood there looking a bit confused; a folder was clasped loosely in his hand.

"I don't know." Peter ran his fingers through his hair and prayed everyone made it back safely.


	5. Do We Have To Have This Conversation?

**A/N:** Next chapter is here. I hope you like. The conversation at the end is the expanded version of the little snippet I posted a couple chapters ago. Don't think I answer too much yet but we are getting there.

* * *

**Do We Have To Have This Conversation In The Bathroom?**

El sat carefully on the couch, the photograph still gripped tightly between her fingers. She wasn't sure why she couldn't let go. The photograph was a message that someone was trying to kill her little boy; evidence of a potential crime. Unable to look at the picture, it was turned upside down, but still she couldn't release it from her grasp.

There was a knock at the door followed immediately by the ringing of the doorbell. Her breathing picked almost immediately and blue eyes flitted towards the door.

"Mrs. Burke, it's Jones." The voice filtered through the doorway.

Elizabeth didn't know why she was so jumpy it was only Jones. She wasn't the person the threat was made against. But after finding the photograph her system was hyped up on adrenaline, and every little noise sounding like the crashing of thunder.

With shaking hands she worked the latch and opened the door to peer around. Jones stood on the front stoop with two other agents behind him.

"We're here to take you headquarters." His voice and posture were both steady and calm. She nodded and swung the door open a bit more to let them into the house.

"Do you have the photo?"

With trembling fingers she held it out and Jones took it with a gloved hand. He stared at the image and for a moment his brow furrowed. "Was this everything?"

"Except the envelope. It's over there." She gestured in the direction of the table where she had been opening the mail. "It's legal sized, manila. Addressed to Timothy Burke."

The other two agents were poking around in the area she identified. "Found it." The lone female agent held up the plain envelope.

A moment later an evidence bag was produced and both items were placed inside.

"I touched the photo. Will that be a problem?" Elizabeth didn't know why she felt so guilty. It wasn't like she had done anything wrong. She was just opening the mail. She supposed it was because she was worried any little thing might keep the agents from catching the person who sent it.

"We'll take your fingerprints so the lab can rule them out when they dust photo. It will be fine."

She nodded and collected her purse. "What about Ender?"

"He'll be fine." Jones reassured her. "Diana is picking him up from school right now. If something was wrong they would have called."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but then she followed him out and locked the door. Parked at the curb was a police car.

At her confused expression one of the agents explained. "We're leaving police here to watch the house just in case."

Elizabeth nodded again, still feeling numb, and then climbed into the back seat of the black sedan.

* * *

Peter was nervously pacing, his agitated demeanour reeking havoc on the entire division's atmosphere. It took a lot to rattle their boss, so now all the agents were feeling restless as well.

"Just stay calm Peter, they'll be here soon." Hughes stood off to the side with his arms folded.

"El said it was a picture with crosshairs over my son's face. That means a death threat."

"If something were wrong Jones or Barrigan would have called. And neither your wife nor your son need you falling apart if something is going on. Your agents don't need this either."

Peter stopped for a moment struggling to compose himself. He scrubbed his hand over his face a couple times and took a few deep breaths. "You're right, you're right. I just can't believe this is happening. Who threatens a six year old?"

"Are there any cases you're working right now where a suspect might try this?"

Peter knew he wasn't thinking straight when that hadn't even occurred to him. He paused for a moment thinking over the current caseload. "Just the usual. No one I would consider violent."

"Get your agents to look into it. I the mean time your wife is here." Hughes jerked his chin in the direction of the far door and Peter turned to see El walking through.

As Peter descended the stairs El rushed over and hugged him tightly. "It's okay hon, I'll make sure nothing happens to him." He hoped he sounded more reassuring than he felt.

She nodded against his chest but didn't say anything.

"Where's the photo?"

Jones held it out and Peter studied it carefully. It looked like it was taken outside FBI headquarters. The crosshairs and been printed in red ink and the words were in read as well.

"Get it to the lab, tell them it gets priority, I don't care whose evidence gets bumped." Peter handed it back.

Jones just nodded, and then handed the photo to their newest probie with a look that said the boss's orders were not to be questioned.

Peter began guiding El towards the conference room on the upper level. "Hon, can you think of anyone suspicious you've seen handing around the house. Maybe even a different mailman, or deliveryman. Someone visiting the neighbours?"

She shook her head.

"What about someone who's approached you when you've been out with Ender?"

"No, no one. Peter, please tell me this is some sort of joke."

Peter wished more than anything he could say that. "I don't know, let's see what Ender says first."

"Is it possible the Martins hired someone?" Jones suddenly joined in. "I mean, it's no secret Ender is the reason they're in jail. They would know from their attorneys he left the clues that caused us to catch them."

"Are they really capable of something like that? Hiring a hitman to take out a child?" El was literally ringing her hands.

"These people murdered one of their foster kids and buried him in the backyard, I think they are more than capable." Peter said allowed, instantly regretting it when he saw the look on El's face.

"But why send a photo? I mean, if they wanted him dead, why would they warn you ahead of time?" Neal had appeared, and taken a seat in one of the conference room chairs. His face was pale.

At this point Peter wasn't sure if he wanted the Martin's to be involved or not. It would be the easiest solution, because they would know who was behind this.

The agent looked out and breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator door opened and Diana walked out, a firm grip on Ender's arm. Peter waved at her to let her know to come up and she carefully guided the kid up the stairs and to the room.

The instant Ender saw Peter his face lit up and he through his arms around the man's waste. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

That wasn't quite what Peter had been expecting, but never-the-less at least the kid wasn't freaking out on him.

"For what?" Peter carefully picked him up, surreptitiously looking him over to ensure his son was all right.

"I was really nervous about people liking me on my first day, but now everyone is going to want to be my friend. I got picked up by feds and taken out in an armed escort, this is the coolest thing ever." The kid was literally bouncing up and down with excitement.

So Diana hadn't told him. Of course she would leave that to him.

"Kiddo, we have to talk." Peter put the kid down in one of the chairs and sat down next to him.

Ender suddenly went very still. "If this is about the hole in the backyard, because Cafall dug that. I have absolutely no idea how the frying pan even ended up inside."

Peter gave him a puzzled look, and then shook himself from his daze. "This isn't about Cafall. I need you to think back over the past few weeks. Has anyone suspicious come and talked to you? Have you seen anyone around the neighbourhood?"

Ender thought for a moment then shook his head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Unless you count Mr. Rabinski who lives down the street, but he's just weird."

"What about at the park, or when you gone to the coffee shop with Neal? Have you seen anyone more than once? Someone who you thought might be following you?"

The kid shook his head again. "Daddy what's wrong?"

Peter waited a long moment then kicked almost everyone out of the room. He asked Diana to take El for some coffee or tea and asked one of the other agents to get a copy of the photo from the lab.

A few minutes later the agent returned and Peter steeled himself.

He put the picture down on the table in front of the kid. "Someone mailed this to the house Ender. Do you know anything about it? Because if this is some sort of joke I promise I won't be angry. I just need to know."

Ender looked at the picture then up at Peter. "Is this real?"

Peter didn't want to scare the kid but he wanted answers. "Unless you can tell me otherwise, yes."

The kid carefully chewed on his lip, and looked down again. Suddenly he bolted back up. "Can I have a copy to put on my Facebook? This is the coolest thing ever, I'm going to be the most popular kid in school."

That was not the response Peter expected and he almost wished the kid was taking this more seriously.

"Ender," he put a hand on the small arm next to him. "I don't think this is a joke. Now I need to know if there is anyone you can think of who might send this."

"Does this mean I can't put it on Facebook?" The kid pouted.

The agent resisted the urge to scream. "What about the words? Do you recognise them from somewhere? Maybe even from before Daddy and Mommy adopted you?"

Ender sat at the table for the longest moment just staring at the photograph. Suddenly he shoved away from the table to his feet. "I have to go."

Peter reached out to push him back down. "You're not leaving this building."

"Noooo." Ender stretched out the word. "I have to go to the bathroom." At Peter's sudden look of confusion he quickly added. "I have to pee. I haven't gone all day and then Ms Diana picked me up." He started to walk towards the door and when one of the agents started to follow whirled back around. "What I can't even go to the bathroom alone now? What happened to my privacy?"

"I promise I won't leave the building." His voice suddenly changed from angry to sad. "Please Daddy? It's an emergency."

"You have three minutes, come right back." Peter pointed towards the door. Ender promptly ran out, and down the stairs grabbing Neal's hat off his desk as he dashed by.

"Hey," Neal jumped to his feet as his pen cup got knocked over in the process, pens scattering across the floor.

Ender just turned around and stuck out his tongue the hat clutched in his hand. "Daddy's being mean to me, so I'm being mean to other people. It's called karma." Then he sprinted out the glass doors in the direction of the restrooms.

Neal looked up at Peter who was visible, staring out the glass walls of he conference room.

"What happened?" Neal mouthed before following Ender out the room.

Neal heard the sound of running water in the bathroom and walked in to see Ender splashing his face at the sink. The kid suddenly whipped around when he saw Neal's reflection in the mirror. "You got one, didn't you?" He hissed, his face full of rage.

"Got what?" Neal sounded clueless.

"Don't lie to me Nealcen, a photo. A photo of you with crosshairs on your face." Ender carefully enunciated every syllable. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Neal just stood there staring at the kid for the longest time. "I just… I thought…" He couldn't seem to get the words out. "It's been sixteen years Ender. I wanted to forget all about it, that life."

"That's a lie." Ender snapped. "You were never a very good liar, you know."

Neal paused for a moment, then drew himself up to his full height and looked down. "Together, or not at all. Or has that changed. We protect each other. I was keeping my promise."

Ender's face didn't relax. "You should have told me."

"You're six."

"So?"

Neal leaned against the sinks. "I just panicked, all right. I thought everything was over the day they dropped me off. And then, all these years later that photo arrived."

The kid chewed on his lip. "When did you get it?"

"Couple days ago." Neal shrugged. "I panicked. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. You have a family. You deserve that."

"I deserve the truth."

Ender stared at his reflection in the mirror, but Neal could tell he wasn't really looking at it.

"He'll never stop until he kills us Danny."

"You're sure it's him?" Neal carefully asked.

Ender nodded. "I'm sure."

"Has anyone else gotten a picture?"

The kid gave him a withering gaze. "Let me just get on my secure cell phone and ring everyone to ask them. Oh wait, I don't have one anymore."

"All right. I get it. Keep your voice down." Neal hissed.

"Talk to Patchett."

Neal shook his head. "I think after our last meeting he hates me."

"It couldn't have been that bad." Ender replied, pulling out a handful of paper towels and make little balls to throw into the waste bin.

"I ruined his undercover op and got him arrested."

Ender whistled. "Okay, so he might be a little upset. But this is important. Besides, I don't know anyone's new numbers so he's the only one who can get a hold of the rest of the triad."

"Fine." Neal relented. This was not going to be fun, for anyone involved. And Peter would probably murder him. "I'll make a call."

"He will kill us Neal." Ender repeated.

"Unless we kill him first." Neal told him.

"Unless I kill him first." Ender amended.

Neal stared at the floor. "Do we flip a coin to decide who tells Peter?"

Ender splashed some water on his face. "Wait for Patchett." With that he blink rapidly to build tears up in his eyes and then took a few shaky breaths.

"What are you doing?" Neal raised his eyebrows.

"What I was trained to do. Act."

* * *

Another chapter that I'm sure leads to more questions than answers. More should make sense next chapter, and I will explain Ender's multiple personalities as well as why he isn't sounding all freaked out. Thanks to everyone who is sticking with this story.

I am pretty sure next chapter will also introduce at least one crossover character, and possibly two more. As a word of complaint, White-Collar just had to one of the actors from the other show a guest star so I had to make a plausible reason for reintroducing the person as someone new, but I think it actually works really well. If not, please feel free to let me know.

Reviews are loved and greatly appreciated.


	6. Like the Machine Gun, Not the Engine

**A/N:** Neal has another flashback, Peter talks to a potential suspect and we meet our first crossover character. See the note at the end for more explanations.

* * *

**Like the Machine Gun, Not the Engine**

Peter was just about to follow the kid into the bathroom and make sure he was all right when Ender returned with red eyes, and a damp face. He took a shaky breath and sat back down in the chair.

"Kiddo," Peter really didn't know what to say. What did any father say to this? He crouched down so he could look up at the little boy. "It's going to be okay. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

Ender was in tears. "This isn't fair," he sniffed.

Peter brushed the kid's hair out of his face. "I know, but don't worry. Daddy will fix everything."

"Not that." Ender looked distraught. "You won't even let me put the picture on Facebook."

Peter just stared at him. "Wait, huh."

"It's so hard going to a new school, especially in the middle of the school year, and I finally have something that makes me cool, and I can't even tweet about it. You're the meanest person ever, and I hate you." He curled up in the chair, looking sulky.

There was the click of the door as it shut and Peter saw one of his agents leaving the room with a hand over his mouth. At least the man had the decently not to laugh in front of everyone.

"Ender this is important." Peter was becoming exasperated. "I don't want to scare you but whoever sent that picture wants to hurt you, so unless there is something you know that you're not telling me, I need you to take this seriously."

"I don't want to." Ender was petulant.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"

Ender pursed his lips. "Because I don't want to die. And I don't to think about dying. You're mean to make me."

Peter pulled Ender into his arms. "I'm going to fix everything. Don't worry."

The kid nodded against his chest, his thumb going into his mouth.

The agent put him back in the chair. "Just stay here. I have to talk with some people. And then I'll be back."

Ender suddenly latched onto the agent's wrist with two tiny hands. "Where are you going?"

Peter carefully pulled away. "I just need to talk to someone, but I'm coming back. Don't worry. Listen." He crouched back down. "If you need anything, something to eat or you want something to do…you just ask one of the agents and they'll get it for you. Okay? But promise me you won't leave this building."

"I promise." Ender nodded, watching his with huge blue eyes.

"Okay…okay…good." Peter stood back up. As he exited the conference room he pulled Jones aside. "You and Diana make sure he doesn't leave. I mean it Jones. Don't believe any tears or sob stories or anything else he might try, in fact someone take El to get his puppy, or you'll be hearing about the little mutt till I get back. If he wants something to eat you go through the restaurants we use when someone is in witness protection. And you watch them prepare the food."

"I know, Peter. It's not the first time I've done this." Jones held up a reassuring hand.

"I do, but I also know my son." Peter headed down the stairs.

"Hey boss, where are you going?" Jones called just as Peter made it to the glass doors that led into White Collars floor.

"I need to talk with someone. Be back as soon as I can."

* * *

Neal sat alone on a bench in Central Park, two lattes in his hand. Everything was starting to unravel. It took him years to forget and now the wound was being ripped open again, like someone ripping a Band-Aid off before a cut had fully healed.

May be, just may be there was a way to salvage this whole fiasco. Or may be Peter would never speak to him again, and that would be the end of it. After the Nazi treasure fiasco Neal was sure Peter would never forgive him. And yet the agent had. But Neal still understood the fragility of their trust, the wrong thing might shatter it for good.

Neal understood the importance of trust. As a conman he didn't trust many people, but he knew the value of having people he could trust. Once, a long time ago he'd had that.

* * *

_The school wasn't exactly like Danny had thought. It was harder than he expected. So many kids, mostly boys but a few girls. Some of the children were nice, some weren't. The teachers put him in a room with twenty other kids, with only a single locker to store his things. But they did give him art supplies, just like he was promised. Brand new coloured pencils, charcoals and other drawing pencils, and some pads of high quality drawing paper._

_There were classes, lots of classes. Math, history, science, geography, as well as art, physical_ _education, and music. Everything was harder than the classes at his old school and for the first time Danny struggled to keep up with everything. It was so tiring. _

_Danny also started to feel homesick. The other children had been together for several months before he arrived so he was the new kid on the block, and he had yet to make friends with anyone in his group. _

_They weren't mean per say, mostly everyone just ignored him. But that got lonely. Danny liked social interactions, and aside from talking with teachers and the room mom, those interactions had been pretty scarce. So now he was sitting off to the side of one of the game rooms where the kids spent there free time, crying about his miserable situation. _

_ "Hey, what's wrong?" _

_Danny looked up from his tears to see a boy about the same age crouched down beside him, his expression curious. _

_"Nothing." He wiped at his tears, in a vain attempt to get rid of them before he was subjected to teasing. Crying meant weakness and Danny knew showing weakness was wrong.  
_

_"You're homesick huh?" The kid asked. He had shoulder length blond hair that fell into his face, and bright blue eyes._

_Danny slowly nodded. "I miss my mom. But she can't take care of me anymore. I came here to learn how to be an artist. But it's different than I expected, no one talks to me."_

_"I used to be homesick too," the other boy carefully intonated, sitting down cross-legged and fiddling with the laces on his boots. "But you get over it. It's really a great place once you get used to it. And making friends takes time. The other kids take a while to warm up to newbies, but they'll get there. And you don't have to make friends only in your group you know. There are lots of other nice kids here you know."_

_Danny really wanted to believe him. "How long have you been here?" _

_"Since I was three or so." The other boy smiled. "But sometimes it feels like forever. I think you're going to like it here…?" He paused and Danny realised he was waiting for a name. _

_"I'm Danny…uh… Brooks. Danny Brooks. You talk funny," he suddenly blurted out, then turned bright red. "Sorry, that was a mean thing to say."_

_The blond haired boy just smiled. "It's okay. I get that a lot. Domrémy says I was born in the_ _wrong country. Except I wasn't. Everyone here just talks weird instead."_

_Danny wasn't sure what to say to that._

_"It was nice to meet you Danny. May be I'll see you around in classes." He hopped up and flounced off. Danny noticed a couple other kids got out of the boy's way as he walked by._

_"Hey! Wait!" Danny jumped to his feet as well. "You didn't tell me your name."_

_The boy laughed. "You're right. I didn't."_

* * *

"One of those for me?" Neal jerked a bit and saw Sarah smiling down at him.

He held out one of the cups. "Yeah, uh here. Extra milk, just the way you like it."

Sarah took a sip and sat down on the bench. "So, you can't have asked me here on a work day, just to share a latte. Because it's the middle of winter Neal."

"Hence the latte." Neal raised his cup to her in a mock toast.

She pulled her coat tighter. "On the phone you said it was important. And I'm after a guy who stole a Thomas Easton so make it quick."

"Famous for painting the nude." Neal gave a suggestive smile to which Sarah merely rolled her eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter Caffrey, you know I never mix business with pleasure."

"Well since I didn't steal the painting I don't know why that would be a problem." Neal knew he was stalling for time, but he was nervous.

"What do you want Neal?" Sarah took another sip. She looked cold and ready to leave.

"I need to talk with your boss."

"Mr. Bosch? You know he still goes on and one about how he didn't have to pay you for authenticating that Raphael. He's such a tight wad." She smiled and looked down at the cup, as if remembering a joke Neal wouldn't understand.

"No." Neal fiddled with his hat. "The other one. Mr. Sterling."

Sarah gave an inquisitive stare. "He's out of the country right now. Doing who knows what? He's the boss and he still likes working cases. Probably doesn't trust us. Control freak."

"High opinions of the people who sign your pay checks."

"I don't have to tell them my opinions."

"Can you get a hold of him or not?"

Sarah looked puzzled. "You're serious?"

"It's important. Look. Just tell him Neal Caffrey wants to talk with him at the FBI's New York field office. Tell him 'The weather's bad in Madrid'. Say that exactly. If he says no I won't ask you again."

"What's this about Neal? Are you in trouble? Can I help?" Sarah was feeling nervous by Neal's evasive attitude. The man had his secrets like any successful criminal, but this was starting to escalate beyond his usual level of weird.

"Please just call him." Neal stood up and tossed his untouched latte in the nearby bin. "I have to go."

He started to walk away when Sarah called him back. "Neal."

He turned back around, but couldn't say anything.

"Take care of yourself."

Neal nodded and kept walking.

* * *

Peter was tired after the two-hour drive to Bedford, New York. The facility wasn't that far from New York City but the stop and goManhattan traffic always added extra time.

He spoke with the warden and they let him wait in one of the meeting rooms. After about twenty minutes the door opened and an officer led Rebecca Martin in, handcuffing her to the table which rested between them.

She curled her lip and pulled a bit on the chains. "Agent Burke. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Her voice was acid. "Here to discuss that little brat. I here you adopted him. Don't know why? Nothing but trouble. Reason I'm here."

"You're here because you murdered one child and forced four others to rob for you. So let's not pretend this isn't your fault."

"What happened to Erik was an accident. I didn't mean to kill him, he fell and hit his head. And as far as those other brats, they were the ones that robbed those museums, not me."

"Because you would kill them if they didn't." Peter slowly clenched and unclenched his fists.

"I don't even get to see my husband. They said conjugal visits aren't allowed because he's in jail too." The woman whined, ignoring Peter's last statement.

"Forgive me for not caring." The agent was beginning to regret this visit.

Rebecca gave a sinister smile. "Did you just come here to gloat Agent Burke; and I thought you were a gentleman."

"I'm here about this." Peter slapped a copy of the photo of Ender down in front of her. "Know anything about it?"

Rebecca looked at the photo, then picked it up and began to cackle. "So someone is finally going to give that little monster what he deserves."

"This isn't a joke." Peter snapped.

"Seems pretty funny to me." Rebecca laughed and dropped the photo back on the table.

Peter slammed his fist on the table. "Did you send this photo?"

"What? Do I look like I could send this? From here?" She gestured around a bit, her hands inhibited by the shackles.

"Did you pay someone to send it? Did you hire anyone to kill my son?"

She shook her head. "I hate to disappoint you, but I have better things to do than worry about your brat. You can have him."

"Answer the question," Peter growled.

Rebecca flicked the photo back across the table. "No."

"Did your husband or brother send it?"

"Not that I know of. We're all in supermax. They tend to keep things pretty secure here."

"But you don't know for sure."

"You'd have to ask them. But I doubt it. That kid was nothing but trouble before we got him. If you ask me, someone else wants him dead."

"Who?" Peter leaned forward a bit.

She waved her hand a bit. "Whoever taught him how to do all his little criminal stuff."

"You taught him that. The gymnastic, the martial arts, the lockpicks; he told me."

Rebecca scoffed. "We may have given him the schematics to those alarms systems but we didn't teach him how to steal. He knew how to do that before he ever came to us."

Peter refused to believe that. The woman was a born liar.

"What do you mean?"

"The only reason we even came up with the idea was because he was such a natural little thief. Used to sneak into the kitchen at night and steal food for him and the other monsters. When they give you foster care classes they tell you to toss their rooms. Found food and other things he stole; wallets, watches, jewellery. Thought, if we had to deal with that why not take advantage."

Peter just stared. This wasn't the conversation he was expecting.

Rebecca smirked at him. "My brother told him about the security systems, but Ender planned every robbery himself. He figured out the way in and out, and how to get the items out of the building."

"You forced him."

"I will admit he didn't want to. And there may have been some _encouragement_ to get him to get him to cooperate. I'm just saying he isn't the perfect little angel you think you have."

Peter waited a moment then pushed himself to his feet. The chair skittered back. "We're done."

"Thanks for stopping by. I was getting bored. Tell Timothy mommy said hello."

Peter knocked on the door and a moment later the officer came him and led Rebecca out. After another minute of numb silence Peter stood up and left.

* * *

The following two days were miserable. Ender sulked about being forced to stay inside and made his displeasure very clear to anyone who would listen.

Peter was still uncertain about the conversation he had with Rebecca Martin, but still didn't know what to do. Should he talk with Ender? It wasn't that he trusted Rebecca. But his gut was telling him there were some truth to her words.

Ender had lived with three other foster families before the Martins so one of them could have been responsible for teaching the kid some unique skills. He had Diana begin background checks on them, but it would take time.

Currently the agent was sitting at his desk, with Ender in another chair, doing a math worksheet. For a kid who had been so upset about his first day of school, he was more upset he now wasn't allowed to go. The school had been nice enough to send over some work that Ender breezed right through. Peter knew the his son was smart and he and El had considered putting Ender in a higher grade, but after a lot of talking they decided social interactions with kids his own age was better.

Peter could see Neal through the glass walls. He was at his own desk shuffling around papers, without really working. He'd been jumpy ever since he saw the picture of Ender. Peter chalked the nerves up to Neal being upset by the threat against his kid brother.

A couple more minutes of staring at his own files, without really seeing anything and Peter rubbed tired eyes.

Glancing up the agent saw someone get off the elevator and walk through the front doors of their offices.

He looked down then snapped back up when recognition kicked in. Shoving away from the desk he was out his office door and down the stairs in seconds. The man was talking to the closest agent.

"I'm looking for Neal Caffrey." The British lilt was evident when he spoke. The junior agent was about to point towards Neal's desk when Peter made it across the room and pushed the man back till he slammed against the back wall.

"How the hell did you get here?" Peter gasped out. "You're supposed to be in jail." His hands grasped the man's suit, leaving wrinkles from his death grip on the fabric.

"I think there's been some sort of mistake." The other man smiled a bit, despite his precarious position.

Peter shoved him against the wall again. "There's no mistake. Curtis Hagan. I arrested you three years ago for bond forgery."

"You arrested Curtis Hagan. And he's still sitting in jail for what he did." He shrugged a bit around Peter's hands. "Check my suit. The right breast pocket." His accent was crisp.

Peter let go with one hand but still kept the bulk of his body weight pressing against the man's torso. Carefully feeling around he located what appeared to be a wallet. Fingers lifted it out and he held one end, allowing it to flip down so he could see the inside.

It was an ID and badge. Peter held it higher so he could read the small print. "James Sterling, Interpol."

"That's Sterling like the machine gun, not the engine."

"We arrested you."

Sterling looked a bit smug. "Completely screwed up my undercover op. Took me two years to get my in and you blew it in one week."

Peter stepped back releasing his grip.

"Call Interpol if you don't believe me. Or Sterling and Bosch. I'm sure your friend Ms. Ellis will be more than happy to vouch for me."

Something clicked. "You're that Mr. Sterling."

"My company insures the Victory Bond."

Peter took a couple deep breaths, trying to get control of his nerves. He was aware of everyone was staring. "But you identified yourself as Curtis Hagan. At the church."

"Actually I never said that, I said I didn't want you in my space."

"Then how?"

"Told him if anything happened it would give him an out. Let someone else take the fall. And in return he told me everything I needed to know to make an arrest." Sterling seemed to anticipate the question.

"But Neal, he identified you." Peter turned to see Neal standing behind his desk, slightly horrified, if his half opened mouth was anything to go by.

Sterling stepped around the agent and cast a glance in the conman's direction. "No. He didn't. You just made that assumption from our short conversation."

Peter could feel his breathing picking back up. "But why? Neal." He turned and stared at the other man. "What were you thinking?"

Neal didn't say anything; he just kept staring. Peter had never seen him at a loss words.

"Oh don't put this all on him. The real Hagan was there and he was just keeping my cover for me."

Peter just kept his eyes fixed on Neal, but he still stood there frozen.

"You know, I think we need to discuss this in private. Your office maybe?"

The tension in the room was thick and Peter looked around at his agents, none of whom seemed to know what to say.

Finally, Peter jerked his head towards his office door.

* * *

**A/N:** So I don't know if this answers any questions, but I hope it adds a little bit more to the plot. Since this introduces my first crossover character I'll explain a bit. James Sterling is a character on the TNT show Leverage. He's not a regular cast member, but appeared pretty regularly as a sort of antagonist to the lead characters, particularly Nate Ford (an insurance investigator for IYS insurance, before his son died). Leverage starts with Ford becoming the leader of a group of criminals who use their skills to perform Robin Hood like acts for others. Sterling works for the same company Ford did, as an insurance investigator, and in Season 2 gets offered a job with Interpol after he takes credit for the recovery of a Faberge Egg.

I think most people who watch Leverage will agree that while Sterling is a foil to the leads, he's not a completely horrible person. Even does some semi nice things like not arresting some of the team when he could. Anyway, I think it will be more obvious how Sterling fits into this in the future, and if not please tell me so I can fix things. The only problem I ran into was that the actor who plays Sterling, Mark Sheppard, guest stared on the Pilot of White Collar as Curtis Hagan and I needed an explanation for that, which I hope was at least partially explained. On Leverage Sterling works for IYS and eventually works his way up to one of the top executives when the president is voted out of the company for fraud. In my universe I decided that IYS changed it's name to Sterling Bosch after that incident with Sterling taking control of the company with Mr. Bosch, whoever he is, but still kept his job with Interpol. So hope this helps things make sense and you like the chapter.

Reviews are loved and greatly appreciated. I'm not when my next post will be, but I'll do my best to update as soon as possible. Cheers.


	7. Old Friends, New Enemies

**A/N:** Hello everyone. Sorry this update has taken so long. First I've been sick and second this is my longest chapter yet. This is the first of two chapters that will explain Neal and Ender's backgrounds. I also introduce two more crossover characters so if you don't recognise their names please read the note at the end for more info.

I also want to offer a massive thanks to all the readers who continue to offer their support for this story. I wish you much good Karma.

* * *

**Old Friends and New Enemies**

Peter's withering glare sent most of his agents back to work, despite seeing a supposed criminal in their midst. The senior agent swiftly strode towards his office, giving his infamous two-finger point to Neal as he stalked by.

Giving a defeated sigh Neal followed after him with all the enthusiasm of a man heading towards the gallows. Sterling, on the other hand, had a swagger to his step as he ascended the stairs and went through Peter's office doorway.

Ender was still sitting at the desk, writing who knew what on a piece of paper. Earbuds were in place and he was bopping along to a song on his Ipod deeply engrossed in his task. After a few seconds he must have realised someone else had entered the room because he looked up, eyes sweeping the area. His gaze flit from Peter to Neal to Sterling, at which point he jumped to his feet, eyes wide and hands at his sides.

Realizing he still had the earbuds in, a small hand jerked up and yanked them out of his ears before he resumed his position.

The insurance investigator regarded him for a moment then gave a disinterested shrug and turned his attention over to Peter. "You don't mind if I sit? Thanks." And he dropped into the nearest chair without waiting for Peter's response.

The agent just stared, unsure what to say to the man's cavalier demeanour. There were a few tense seconds before Peter was able to spit out, "Somebody start talking."

Sterling smirked. "As I said, you almost messed up my undercover op, but fortunately I was able to salvage things after the arrests were made. Interpol thanks you for your services."

"I don't understand." Peter looked over at Neal who stood frozen close to the door, and then back to Sterling.

"What's not to understand? I work for Interpol. I was there to get information on Hagan and make an arrest, and this yahoo," the man jerked his head towards Neal, "had to bring every last bloody FBI agent in New York City in to jack up my operation with his Kamikaze stunt."

"If you knew he wasn't Hagan why did you let me believe he was Neal?" Peter changed his focus.

Neal stared at his shoes and mumbled. "It's complicated."

"Complicated? That's all you can say?" Peter was irate. "Our entire deal was built around that arrest and now you're telling me we arrested the wrong man, you knew and you didn't say anything?"

"It's complicated." The other man numbly repeated.

Peter glanced about in frustration and realised Ender was still standing there staring.

"Ender go tell Diana to buy you something from the vending machine." The kid didn't move and Peter wondered if there was something in the water since it appeared no one was listening to him today.

"Ender." He touched a hand to the child's shoulder causing him to jump and look over.

Peter felt bad for startling him. "I have to talk to Neal, go tell Diana to buy you whatever you want. Here." He held out a couple one dollar bills. Ender stood frozen for another moment before a shaky hand took the money. He kept his eyes on Sterling as he walked by until he was out of the room.

"Cute kid." The investigator announced. "Boy or girl?"

There were few times when Peter felt absolutely blindsided by something and today, this situation was one of them. "Neal," he barked and the man jerked blue eyes up to meet Peter's" "What is going on? You have ten seconds to start explaining or I'm calling the DOJ."

Peter began silently counting to ten and it wasn't until he was on nine that Neal opened his mouth. "I couldn't Peter tell you. I just couldn't okay. I'm sorry."

"How did you know who he was?"

Sterling scoffed and Neal gave a tentative smile. "He's an insurance investigator, remember. I may have allegedly taken a few things his company insured, and he came after me."

"I appreciate the return of Saint George and the Dragon by the way," Sterling tipped back in his chair, keeping a casual, smug air about him. "It looks so nice back in its spot in the National Gallery of Art. The curator threw one hell of a party to celebrate its homecoming. Canapés were delicious."

Peter was really starting to hate this guy. The haughty demeanour grated on his nerves. He pushed for an opening with the person he felt more likely to be forthcoming.

"Neal my gut is telling me there is more to this relationship than some conceited insurance investigator who chased you around Europe a few times. You completed that case like he was Hagan, when you still could have told me who he was after we left the church. Why?"

It was hard to comprehend why Neal looked so nervous. He usually kept a stellar control of his mannerism and to Peter he radiated apprehension.

"I thought we were going to talk in the lobby?" Neal suddenly blurted out, almost petulantly.

Peter looked puzzled. "What?"

"And I'm not interested in playing games." Sterling answered as if he knew what Neal was talking about. "A bit hard to know whether you guys remember that though. Especially after the origami cranes in my bathtub in Hamburg, and when someone rearranged the painting at the Louvre. But then again, you kids never really grew up."

"How do you know him Neal?" Peter stood up. His voice was forceful and Neal looked cowed.

There was a brief pause and then in a much gentler voice Sterling responded. "Tell him Nealcen."

Peter's eyes whipped over to the man seated across from him. Only one other person ever used that nickname for Neal. Sensing if he didn't regain at least some of his composure Neal would remain mute Peter tapped the back of the chair Ender had been sitting in as a gesture for Neal to sit. "Neal. Please tell me."

Slowly, edgily Neal crept towards the chair and sat down. He picked up the pencil Ender had left on the table and shaded in a couple geometric shapes on one of the papers. "Do you remember me telling you I was in foster care?"

After a moment of flitting through conversations with Neal Peter recalled one a few months ago. It had been the one with Ender and the museum robberies. "You said you were around five. Your mother couldn't take care of you and social services took you away. Once the marshals realised what happened you went back home and Ellen helped raise you."

Neal carefully nodded. "I may not have been entirely forthcoming about how long it was before I went back home."

Peter stared. "How long?"

"Almost seven years." Neal began drawing a more detailed picture of what looked like Botticelli's 'The Birth of Venus'.

The agent choked. "Seven years? How does someone in WITSEC get caught in foster care for seven years?"

Neal shrugged keeping his attention on his drawing. "Because I wasn't in foster care. I went to a boarding school of sorts, for gifted children. I think my mother knew she couldn't take care of me so she sighed me over to them."

That didn't sound so bad. Neal would probably thrive in an environment like that. "If you were there for seven years you would have left around age twelve." Neal nodded and focused on shading in the clamshell Venus was standing in.

"Why did you leave? It sounds like you had a good thing going?"

"Had to. Never found out why."

"So what does that have to do with him?" Peter gestured towards Sterling.

Neal licked at dry lips. He looked over at the investigator as if asking silent permission. Peter saw the barest of nods and then Neal responded. "He was a teacher there."

"Okay wait." Peter held up his hands. "Before you were an Interpol agent and an insurance investigator and president of a multi-billion dollar insurance company you taught at a boarding school for gifted children? What did you teach? Actuarial accounting?"

Sterling smirked again. "Oh you know, a little of this, a little of that. Actual I think it will make more sense if you meet the others."

"The others?" Peter stared.

"The rest of the team. The triad as we're known."

"You want me to add enforcer for the Chinese triad to your resume?" This was becoming really hard for Peter to swallow.

Sterling just huffed. "We're called the triad because there are three of us. No connection whatsoever to that 'other' organisation. " He finger quoted other.

"Wait." Neal snapped up. "Domrémy and Hadrian are coming here?"

The man nodded. "You were serious weren't you? About Madrid?"

"Yes." Neal almost whispered.

"Whose Madrid? Did something happen in Spain?" Peter was getting tired of being the only person in the room who didn't know what was going on.

"He's the person who sent me this?" Neal reached into his breast pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. Peter snatched it from his hands and carefully unfolded the paper to see the image.

Peter took a shuddering breath and then glared at Neal. "You got one of these too and you didn't tell me?"

"I couldn't."

"No, you wouldn't. After the music box we agreed there would be no more secrets between us. You swore that to me Neal. And now your telling me you know who's threatening Ender and the same person is threatening you. Why!? Who is he?!"

Neal gripped his pencil. "One of the most dangerous people you will ever meet. He's a psychopath. Someone who kills without remorse."

"Why does he want you dead Neal? What did you do, did you steal something from this guy?"

"No." Neal shook his head. "And he really doesn't want me dead. He wants Ender."

* * *

Ender was carefully breaking up the chocolate bar Diana had gotten for him, into little pieces and tossing the bits into the nearest waste bin. Peter just had to kick him out of there. Patchett wouldn't be forthcoming and Neal was too worried Peter would hate him to tell the entire truth. Ender could completely understand that. Was a bit rigid in his interpretation of things and probably wouldn't simply be all smiles and 'you poor thing' when he found out the rest of the story.

He dumped the rest of the bar in the bin and brushed off his hands. Ender hated chocolate. Well, hate was a strong word. It wasn't an allowed food so he tried not to eat it whenever he could avoid it. He tried peeking into his dad's office but the stairs and several glass walls made the task nearly impossible. All he could see was that Daddy looked angry so someone had said something.

After this was over he would probably be given a one-way ticket back to foster care. May be he could go back to school. At least it was familiar. But if they hadn't gotten him after all this time there was little reason they would do so now.

It was sad really. He finally had a chance at a real life, two parents who loved and adored him and reminded him of his real parents. And it was about to come crashing down. Some days life just sucked.

He supposed he was doomed to spend the next number of years in foster care, although if that was the case he was leaving. He'd find some friends from days past and make himself indispensable. Besides, no one would ever refuse him. It was kind-of an unspoken rule. Teammates didn't abandon each other. Ever.

It would be easier to find people if he had his Hook, but he hadn't had that since he was at the school. Besides, Ender was nothing if not resourceful. He flipped through his mental Rolodex of names and locations. Julian worked for some cushy law firm now, complete with a corner office and penthouse. But his office was in New York City so staying here would most likely lead to some awkward run-ins with the Burkes that he didn't want to deal with. Sorry, Julian.

Jax, Remy and Parker were all in a completely different state, so he'd keep that idea in the back of his mind as plausible. And they actually liked him, which was always a plus.

First thing was first, see how bad things really were then decide if he needed an exit plan. The biggest mistake people tended to make in a crisis, was to get flustered and do something stupid instead of waiting to see all the options and panic only as a last resort.

Decided he wanted a better view of Peter's office Ender dropped to the ground and surreptitiously crawled across the floor and under several desks to obtain a better vantage point.

Okay he wasn't being completely secretive considering most people could see him, and a few agents had to move their feet and chairs or him as he low crawled by, but the advantage to being six is people just smile and think your adorable.

Ender made it to Agent Simon's desk and plastered himself to the side peaking around the corner to see if the coast was clear on his way to Agent Grenner's. He didn't care if anyone else saw him as long as Peter didn't. From the looks of thing there was still a heated discussion going on, but Daddy was glaring at Neal, which meant he wouldn't be looking out into the bullpen.

There was a moment's hesitation where Ender gathered himself for the final leg of his journey when he heard a several voices mingled together in conversation as they entered White-Collar's office.

One was clearly agent Jones's. The other two were a clearly a man's and a woman's voice and after a moment Ender recognised them. He sucked in a breath and pressed himself more tightly against the side of the desk. The voices grew louder as the owner's drew near then softened again as they headed up the stairs and finally Ender heard the knock on the office door.

He carefully snuck a glance around the side then immediately whipped back to his covert spot. Agent Simon's just gave him and odd look then promptly went back to his computer.

* * *

Peter had spent the last few minutes venting his frustrations on Neal who simply sat there looking rather cowed. Sterling had looked on amused but offered no help either, other than to maintain a superior air.

Feeling like he would have to threaten prison again, Peter steeled himself for it when there was a knock at the door and Jones stuck his head in looking apologetic.

"Sorry boss," he grimaced as Peter whipped around, a stunned and irate look on his face.

"This better be to tell me you figured out who sent those pictures or someone just die." Peter snapped, only feeling a little guilty about his temper.

Jones hesitated for a moment, uncertain then ploughed on. "Uh no. Not exactly but it is kind of important."

"What?"

"The Director of the National Clandestine Service, Arthur Campbell is here to see you."

"I'm sorry? What?" Peter just froze. What had he done to step on the CIA's toes? "And he has to talk with me right now?"

Jones nodded.

"Fine." Peter wanted to get this out of the way. "You two wait with Agent Jones." He gestured at his two companions. "And send in Director Campbell."

"Actually," Sterling rose to his feet, carefully stretching his muscles as he did so. "I think they'll want us here for this conversation."

Peter just stared at him. "The D/NCS is part of this little charade you've been telling me about? Who am I expecting next? The President? The Dali Lama?"

"No I think everyone's here now." Neal muttered, still refusing to meet Peter eyes.

"Then by all means, I want to hear how the Director of the National Clandestine Service is also a part of the Chinese Triad."

"It's just the Triad. China has nothing to do with it." Neal repeated the earlier sentiment, which a touch of frustration.

Jones had worked with Peter long enough to know now was not the time to even offer a questioning glance. He simply beckoned out the door and a moment later and man and a woman appeared.

The man held out his a congenial smile on his face. "Arthur Campbell, pleasure to meet you. And this is my wife Joan." He gestured to a pretty blond woman standing a bit behind him."

Peter took the man's hand out of courtesy more than anything. "To what do I owe the pleasure of the visit Director Campbell?"

"Please call me Arthur." The man stepped aside so Peter could shake the woman's hand. Arthur turned towards Sterling and shaking his hand. "Jim, nice to see you again. Wish it was under better circumstance."

Peter watched the exchange. "You two know each other?"

"Yes, Jim didn't tell you?" Arthur looked puzzled.

"I didn't actually think he as serious." Peter glanced around the room.

"Well, hopefully we can sort things out. You're younger than I expected. Heard nothing but great things about you though."

"Excuse me?" Another thing Peter wasn't expecting to hear.

Arthur just smiled and then turned his attention to the last person in the room everyone had been neglecting. "Hello Danny. You're all grown up."

Now Peter was floored. He could possibly accept a high ranking CIA director knowing Sterling but not only had that man acknowledge he knew Neal, but Cambell called him by his WITSEC name.

Neal just stared back at them his expression gloomy. "I go by Neal now. But I think you guys already knew that."

"Neal suits you better." Arthur smiled fondly.

"Somebody better start explaining to me what's going on?" Peter finally bellowed. "Neal?"

"Oh for the love of…" Sterling started to swear. "How on earth do you put up with this? He shout like this all the time?"

Neal kept his mouth shut, eyes just flitting between the occupants of the room.

It was Arthur Campbell who held up his hand. "I think I can help you out Agent Burke. But first I want you to understand that anything we discuss stays in this room. You are not even allowed to talk with your other agents about anything we tell you."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with…" Peter began but Arthur cut him off. "It's this or we drag you to Langley on a National Security violation and explain things in one of our interrogation rooms. And trust me, I can make that happen with one phone call." He reached his hand for Peter's desk phone.

There was a brief pause where Peter wasn't sure what to say. Finally he glanced over at Neal who looked back with pleading eyes. "Fine. I give you my word."

Director Campbell smiled, and gestured to Joan. "My wife works for the agency as well, however unlike me she does not hold a public position n the company so if anyone asks she works for the World Bank."

"And you expect my agents to buy that when you show up together to talk with me about a matter of National Security?"

"You'll make sure they buy it. Unless you want them to lose their jobs. Everything we're about to tell you has the highest security classification. Technically you don't have the clearance, but we're making an exception."

God, this sounded ominous.

"Are you the people who can tell me why someone sent my wife and I a photo of our son with sniper's crosshairs on his face?"

"We are." Joan Campbell spoke for the first time outside of introductions. "But first we need to explain a few things." She reached into her bag and pulled out a book. "Ever read this."

Peter took it, eyes scanning the cover. "It's my son's favourite book. He likes it so much he took the nickname. Doesn't even want to go by his real name."

"Have you read it?" Joan asked.

"Sure." He shrugged.

"So did a few people in the government. And someone got the brilliant idea to try it out and see if it actually worked. See if they could start training kids as kids so when they got to be adults they'd be better operatives."

Peter stared at her. Then his eyes snapped to Neal. "Wait. That school you just told me about."

"Not exactly." Neal answered.

"This was in the early 1980's." Joan continued. "The CIA looked across the country to find kids – well orphans who were similar to the characters in the book and set them up in a military type school which they."

Peter kept right one staring. He wanted to start shouting again, but somehow had lost his ability to speak.

"It sort of worked. The kids learned how to play soldier. Bonded in their groups. Developed a lot of the skills we were looking for." Joan paused for a moment to take a breath before continuing. "But if you've read the book you know the people in there deliberately set up some tough situations, especially between the lead character Ender Wiggin and another boy, Bonito Madrid."

Direction Campbell continued. "In the book Ender accidentally kills Madrid in a fight when the other boy attacks him. The same things happened at our school, except even though Ender beat him in the fight, he didn't kill him. just broke his arm and his nose. We realised he was a loose cannon and sent him home, or he 'iced out' as the term in the book goes. Didn't sit well with him. He's stayed angry about it ever since."

"Wait so you mean…? That's the person who…? This person would have been at your crazy school before my son or Neal was even born. And you're trying to tell me he wants my kid dead because he hates his nickname? Why doesn't he just go after this other kid, the one who humiliated him. Or he already has, and now he's become some sort of deranged serial killer." Peter looked between them.

Joan didn't directly answer his question. "About a year after that the entire program was scrapped. While those kids were little copies of the book characters, leadership realised the book was a poor idea. We weren't preparing for a battle in space in close quarters. The kids would never make it as real world operatives. Most of the kids were placed with families or they entered the foster care system. Some were even adopted by staff."

She took a breath. "But leadership wanted to try again. So this time they took the principles behind Card's book but decided to develop a school that would foster the kids' natural talents. A lot of terminology was kept, even the military environment, but we taught more than just tactics. We introduced music, sports, and art along with the math, science and history classes."

"They taught me how to be an artist Peter. It's where I learned well… almost everything I know today." Neal finally spoke.

"Neal has talent you can't teach Agent Burke, we just helped him develop it." Arthur added.

"Your telling me the CIA trained him to be a thief?"

"I don't think that was their goal, it was more mine." Neal helpfully pointed out.

"There school was where Joan and I met. We fulfilled the duties of normal operatives, but some of us were also selected to work at the school as teachers. We were each assigned to work with specific groups of kids, identify talents and make decisions for future training based on their unique skills. We also helped screen for new children who might thrive in the program and recommend them for admittance."

"You do realise these are real live children here?" Peter was staring at them. "Did you kidnap them? Because that is a federal offence. Or is the CIA above such things."

"Most of the children were orphans and wards of the state. The rest, their parents sign over guardianship. We didn't just pull them off the street." Joan told him.

"Besides, this school was started by some top government officials. Do you really think you'd get jurisdiction to prosecute even if they did?" Sterling added, and Peter just glared at him.

"The kids thrived at our school Agent Burke. Most of them would have been lost in the system and probably dropped out of school by the time they were in the 8th grade, despite their genius IQs. We've produced successful doctors, lawyers, businessman, scientists and professional athletes, just to name a few."

"Not to mention professional con artists." Peter wasn't letting that one go. To think, Neal had learned his abilities from Peter's tax dollars. Wasn't that the ultimate slap in the face.

"So how does insurance investigator extraordinaire get involved in this?" Peter jerked a chin at Sterling.

The man just smiled. "I met Joan and Arthur in the fall of 1993. I'd only been working for IYS a couple years at that point and anxious to prove myself. Most of our money is made via commission from the pieces we recover and I as chasing a man who stole some ancient Egyptian artifacts from the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo. The recovery fee was huge, and I was willing to get the pieces back no matter how long what. Took a couple weeks but I eventually got a lead that my guy had a Somali war lord as buyer and would be delivering the items in a couple days. Tracked him down on the second of October in Somalia's Capital and recovered my artefacts."

Peter rummaged around in his brain for why that day sounded so familiar. "That's the day before…"

"The First Battle of Mogadishu. When all hell broke lose in that city. I had hired a local driver who was supposed to take me to the airport the next day to catch my afternoon flight out of the country. But as you know that's when 160 of the US military's finest special operations soldiers swarmed into the city to capture two high-ranking officials from the Habr Gidr clan. If you want the details of their operation you can always check out the feature film."

"I know the story." Peter told Sterling.

Sterling cocked his head and looked off to the side remember the days events. "It was insane. Everywhere you turned there was the sound of gunfire. Trucks were everywhere, if not our soldiers it was the militia. Even some of the civilian were picking up guns and joining in the battle. At that time of day a lot of the militia was high on khat, the drug of choice in the region. Causes euphoria. Soldiers thought it would give them the edge, but it just made the militia even more amp up and aggressive."

"I really though I was going to die there. Doors were being kicked down and bullets were flying. I was scared that even if I ran into American troops they'd shoot me just because I wasn't one of them. House I was hiding in had militia soldiers barge in, so I ducked out the back trying to stay in the shadows. I had no idea where to go when all of a sudden someone grabbed my hand and starts pulling me through the streets into a back alley. We run until I can breath anymore when finally we reach this house and go inside...Into a back room and I look down and realise it's this kid who led me there. In fact the room's full of kids. Seven of them, all hiding."

"They saved your life." Peter stared at him.

Sterling nodded. "Took me a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and that's when I realise they're not Somali. All but one is Caucasian. They're just dressed in Somali garb and their faces are just smudged up with dirt."

"What are you saying?" Peter was starting to have difficulty breathing.

Sterling reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. "These are the kids."

Peter took the photo with a shaking hand. Seven children were crowded together, two girls and five boys, all posing and hamming it up for the camera. They were dress in identical little black jumpsuits and combat boots. Peter couldn't make out the patches on their clothes but as he scanned the children his eyes lingered over two faces. The first was a boy about nine or ten with brown curls and bright blue eyes. Peter recognised that mischievous smile anywhere. The second was a blond boy about the same age, with shoulder length blond hair and sarcastic grin. He was making a backwards piece sign with his right hand. Peter's eyes snapped up. "Is that Ender's father?" He stammered.

"No." A small voice in the office doorway said. "That's me."

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, anyone surprised? Ready to send me hate mail? I'm sure this chapter was not what people were expecting but I hope it did not disappoint. Just so people know I absolutely do not condone the use of child soldiers which I know occurs in this world. That is not what this story is about.

I originally thought up the premise for the school and the CIA as a young teenage writer after reading the book Ender's Game. I found some of those ideas about six months back and when I decided to try some White Collar fanfiction I thought, hey we don't know where Neal got his skills from? Seems like this would be a pretty good place for him to have learned them. I realise there is still a lot unanswered, especially about how Ender is the kid in the photograph and that will be explained next chapter.

Really quickly, Arthur and Joan Campbell are from the USA show Covert Affairs. On the show they are married and heading up different divisions of the CIA. Covert Affairs actually focuses on a different lead character, but she is not vital to this story so don't worry if you've never seen the show. I like their whole dynamic as a couple, and if anyone has ever seen the show I hope you will agree that the episode where Joan has jury duty was absolutely hilarious. Made me just fall in love her character.

And for people who watch all three shows yes I know Kari Matchett, who plays Joan Campbell also guests on Leverage as the lead's ex wife. In my universe Joan ad the other character Maggie are identical twin sisters. Hope that's not too cliche, but it's hard to make things work when actors have lot of different roles so I did my best.


	8. Journey Through Time

**A/N:** Okay, this is Ender's side of story . When I imagined Ender's character many years ago I wrote it with some fantastical elements from my favourite legend, with my own twist because I don't like how the legend ended. I want readers to know, before I began writing this story, I really debated how much of that to include since not all reader like fantasy and White-Collar isn't that type of show. However, after much thought I decided that I would be unable to write the story or fully develop Ender's character without them. I hope readers who have liked my stories so far, but are not really into 'out of cannon' stories might be able to look past that. What makes Ender who he is in all the other stories is because of what is revealed in this chapter.

His actually story is way more in-depth, but I promised readers this would not be a fantasy-based story so I am keeping my word and only revealing so much. People who want to know more can message me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

And whose excited White-Collar is back this Tuesday? The recorder is set.

* * *

**Journey Through Time**

Peter stared at Ender, for the longest time. Finally he realised his mouth was hanging open and managed to snap his jaw shut.

"You people are sick." He suddenly burst out. Stepping around the desk he grabbed Ender and hoisted him up into his arms. "I'm calling your therapist."

"Oh here we go," Neal buried his face in his hands.

"Shut up Neal." Peter snapped.

"You know, I could buy this government school thing run by the CIA, and that my tax dollars were used to make him a criminal. But if you think I'm going to buy into some deluded fantasy that the kid in that picture with Neal is my son. You're crazy. What's worse is that you somehow have convinced him of it."

"It's not a lie Peter. And I'm not crazy." Ender twisted around trying to get free.

"Get out of my office right now." Peter's directed his anger toward everyone who wasn't Ender. He tightened his grip on the kid and began flipping through his cell for the proper number.

"Agent Burke do you really think I flew here from Virginia to play games?" Arthur Campbell rose to his feet.

"I think you're a bunch of monsters who kidnap and use children for you own gain. You play games with their minds until they turn into that." He jerked his thumb at Neal. "Not knowing right from wrong."

"Hey," Neal looked hurt. "I don't the difference between right and wrong, I just choose to hold myself to a higher standard."

"Stop talking Neal." Peter snapped at him. "Now I want the three of you, whoever you think you are, to get the hell out of my office. Call my director or my boss or whoever if you want to complain. I don't care. But I want you gone."

"That threat is real Agent Burke." Joan's expression was tense. "The one against both of them."

"I'll handle it. Apparently I've been cleaning up your messes for years so what's one more." Peter was finished with the game. He finally managed to scroll to Dr. Phillips number and was fumbling with the phone trying to press send.

"Daddy I'm not crazy." Ender reached for the cell causing it to slip from Peter's fingers and land on the desk.

"I'm not saying that Ender. I'm saying these people have lied to you and made you believe things that aren't true."

He turned his attention back to Joan, Arthur and Sterling who were still standing there. "I just want to know one thing. Why did you put him with the Martins, those people were animals. Do you know what they did to their foster children?"

"We didn't put him with the Martins Agent Burke, that was out of our control." Joan answered for the group.

"Oh what. You're telling me you're in charge of that school and you don't make the decision where the kids are kid go when you don't want them anymore. Or don't you care?"

"I was never with them." Ender finally managed to twist enough that Peter had to let go for fear of hurting the kid.

"Then how do you know them Ender?" Peter was beyond confused.

"If you'd shut up for five seconds and listen to me I'd actually be able to explain." Ender screamed. "You never listen. Ever. You don't know everything about me. In fact you know nothing about me."

The agent stood there staring. He counted to ten, took several deep and then counted to ten again. "All right. Explain it to me. What don't I understand?"

Ender looked at Peter's chair and then back up again. "You're going to want to sit down."

It was really hard not to argue, but Peter decided if he wanted something, with only minimal tears, he might have to give a little and so he would humour the kid. "All right, I'm sitting down."

Ender nodded in approval. "I'm not crazy." He repeated wanted Peter to understand this very important point.

"I know that." Peter told him.

The kid gave him a pointed look and Peter held up his hands in mock defeat.

Although Ender wasn't going to believe him he continued. "They told you about Madrid, right?"

Peter nodded.

"He sent that picture. To me and to Nealcen."

Peter nodded again.

"Did they tell you why?"

"He's mad at the kid who beat him up during some fight. The person broke his arm."

"I broke his arm." Ender told him. "He never forgave me for beating him. Damn pride."

_You are humouring him. _Peter kept chanting to himself. "But Neal wasn't at the school at that point. He wasn't even born yet. So how were you at school with Neal and at school with Madrid years before Neal ever went there?"

Ender gave him a _seriously_, look. Grown-ups had no imagination. "I was born in the past." He continued.

"Most people are."

"Would you just listen Daddy…I was born in the past, past. Like a long, long, long, long, long, long, long time ago."

Peter prepared himself for some crazy story. "How long?"

"Like 400 AD long. Back when Rome was still an empire."

That was something Peter hadn't been expecting.

"My father was a very important man. A general. He didn't live in Rome though. He was stationed in Britain. He and my mother had seven children. I was the youngest."

The kid took a breath. "There was a coup, I guess you could say. A friend of my parents wanted her son to take over…to rule. Unlike now where people just create a fake scandal or dig up some dirt to discredit someone, back then you actually went to war. Kill or be killed. The two of them waited years, bided their time and eventually gathered enough support. Their troops attacked the fort where we lived. It was a bloodbath. Battles in those days always were.

Her goal was to kill the entire family. No one left, and there would be no one to overthrow her if she managed to put her son in charge. I don't know what happened to any of them. I was only twelve so I wasn't allowed to fight."

Peter still wasn't swallowing this but it seemed important to Ender. May be some antipsychotics would help, but for now he'd let the kid finish. "So how'd you end up here? In the future? As a six year old?"

"My father's advisor and close friend. He got me while everything was going on. Said he was sending me away, some place safe. He told me it was my job to learn how to become a soldier so that one day I could return and take back my father's land. I don't really remember everything, one moment I was standing there with him, the next I woke up in the future, a toddler again."

"When?" Peter cut in.

Ender looked at him confused.

"What year did you end up at?"

The kid shrugged, then glared. "You don't believe me. I knew you wouldn't. It doesn't matter. Just because someone doesn't believe the truth, doesn't mean it's not true."

"What I'm saying is, this still doesn't explain anything Ender. Which year did they send you to? Because even if that's true you still haven't explained how you're the kid who broke Madrid's arm and then ten years later are still a kid in that photo with Neal. Or still a kid now. Did your father's friend give you some sort of time-travel watch so you can just bounce around the time-line wherever it suits you? Or?"

Peter turned to address all the adults in the room. "Is there some sort of secret government cloning experiment going on that no one knows about, and fragmented memories from the donor cells are some sort of bizarre side-effect of the process? Oh my god!" Peter buried his face in his head. "I sound just like Mozzie."

"Actually I think Mozzie would have believed me by now." Ender stamped his foot on the ground. "Look, I don't know everything. All I now is that he messed up. Whatever he did to send me here didn't work and now I'm stuck."

"Stuck?" Peter repeated.

"Jumping through time. Every time I get to twelve I jump to a new time. And I'm three again, and age all over."

"How many times have you uh…jumped?" Peter asked him.

Ender shrugged.

Peter waited a moment longer, then stood up. "All right I played your game Ender, and yours," he told everyone else. "Now I'm calling Dr. Phillips and the rest of you are getting out of my office."

"I can prove it." Ender cut him off.

Peter sighed. "Ender."

Ender only looked more determined. "I can prove it."

The agent sat back down. All right, he'd give them five more minutes. "Fine Ender. You can prove it? Go ahead."

"First, I'm fluent in 15 different languages including Latin."

"Ender that just proves what I already know. That you're really smart."

"You think I could become fluent in 15 languages in six years?"

"No I think you are a little boy who speaks three languages, and likes to exaggerate."

"Bring any agent in here who speaks another language and I'll guarantee you I can carry on a conversation with them in that language."

"Ender…" Peter was exasperated.

"What do you want? Magic powers. I'm human, not from mars. What I'm saying is even though I have to relearn things physically each time I remember the stuff I learned in past jumps. Takes a little while sometimes, but I always remember. Remember my social worker telling you I didn't speak English when they found me on the street at _age_ three. Well that's because they didn't speak English in Britain back then. It was a Roman occupied country so they spoke Latin. I have to learn English each which is how I end up with the accent."

Peter put his hands on Ender's shoulders. "Kiddo, this game has to end."

Ender yanked away. "Fine. You know what. Send me with them. You don't want me, give them permission to take me back to the school."

"This isn't about getting rid of you."

"I'm not living with someone who thinks I'm mental."

"I don't think you're crazy Ender I already said that."

"No you just think I'm delusional. And now I'm supposed to spend the next however long in therapy sorting through whatever trauma from my past caused me fixate on this delusion. Not happening, because I'm not making this up.

They believe me because they've lived through it. Do you really think they'd come here and keep up this fantasy just for fun? You want photos to prove it they can provide them. Videos too. You can have any lab tech to want tell you if they've been altered. But you have to accept this because Madrid is real. He's a monster and he won't stop until I'm dead or he is."

He was so passionate Peter wanted to believe him. But who in their right mind would ever believe a story like that. "Ender I just can't believe what you're telling me?"

Carefully biting his lip Ender nodded. "I know. I actually don't expect you to. Can you at least believe that Madrid is trying to kill me?"

"That I believe." It was just about the only thing Peter could wrap his head around. Not because Ender broke this guys arm twenty years ago, but because of the photo he'd received in the mail.

Ender continued talking as if Peter had said he believed everything. "Despite what people might believe, most of the kids who go there love the school. It was originally Battle School after the book, but after a while we just called it the school. For the first time in our lives we belonged, were able to make friends.

The first time I was there was definitely the hardest. Second time around, I never wanted to leave. The seven of us in that picture were best friends. And we were the best. Mogadishu was our first mission. We were sent in to retrieve a case of Sarin, intel said was in the possession of Mohamed Farrah Aidid the current leader of the Habr Gidr. He was going to use it to control the people. There were constant riots because they were starving.

The mission went fine. Just like those museums, when you're small people tend not to notice you. Unfortunately we were making our exit when the army made their entrance. When we go on a mission we go black. No radio unless we need an extraction, or someone died. We didn't know they were coming in until it was to late.

Found a house to hide and wait out the battle, but we also knew at some point the militia would notice the Serin was missing. If our guys lost, things would go from bad to worse. And we'd never get out. We didn't have reception for our radio in the basement so I had to go out and find a better location.

Called in an extraction, but with everything going on it couldn't happen in the city. We had to get out and hike almost ten miles to our extraction point. On the way back to our hideout I ran into this joker." He gestures towards Sterling. "Looked about ready to piss his pants." The kid looked smug and Sterling just shook his head. "Don't know why but I grabbed his hand and dragged him along till we made it back to the house."

"Bit of a shock when cracker-jack there leads a complete stranger in." Neal added, grinning at the memory. "And a two-bit civ at that."

"All right, enough, I get it. You didn't like me." Sterling had sat down in one of the chairs, but now he stood back up again.

"As much as this apparent trip down memory lane has been interesting, what does Madrid have to do with this?"

Neal and Ender looked at him. "Nothing," they said together.

"I was just using it as another opportunity to point out that I am in fact telling the truth." There was a definite sarcastic tint to Ender's words. "Plus it's a great story."

"Tell me about Madrid."

Ender rolled his eyes but continued. "Madrid's real name is David Molina. Came from a poor but proud family. Was going to prove to everyone that he was someone. David was smart, but not brilliant. They made him a commander, but like in the book he wasn't ready. Won battles in the game room, but only because the teachers arranged it. Like in the book he resented when the teachers put me in his toon and like in the book he couldn't stand it when I was made commander and my guys beat him.

The fight took place in the bathroom. I could have killed him, but I didn't. I didn't want to be a murderer. Somehow I think that was the final straw. I showed him mercy and after everything that happened to David it was the ultimate slap in the face. The evening Madrid shipped home I found a photo on my pillow. Me with crosshairs drawn over my face in red ink and the words 'You're going home on ice' on the bottom. His promise that he'd pay me back for what I did."

As fantastical as everything was Peter still hung on every word. What surprised him the most was that Ender didn't look scared. He looked pissed.

"I think he knew it would never work to kill me while I was still at the school. Decided to wait till I wasn't there anymore. I'm sure it wasn't easy but I guess he finally found me. And now he wants to finish it."

"Why Neal?" Peter asked. "If he hates _you_ why send the photo to Neal."

Ender shrugged. "Because we were everything he wanted to be."

* * *

**A/N:** So I'm sure this chapter was another doozy. I hope it wasn't to confusing. There is so much information running around inside my head and it's hard to get stuff out in a coherent fashion. Sometimes things make sense to me because my brain fills in the blanks but I don't know how it sounds to someone who just sees the parts. I hope things have kind of come full circle back to the original problem and the focus of the story should shift back to that. Please let me know if you see gaping holes in the plot and I'll do my best to fix things.

Not sure how long things will take since like Hidden Dragon I have the ending written but haven't decided exactly how to get there.

Let me know what you think.


	9. There's A Fine Line Between Genius

**A/N: ** Sorry for another long wait for this chapter. Been having a little writers block. After the last couple chapters I'm been trying to figure out where to take the story next, and how to write things so the plot is still semi-believable/realistic. Well as believable as possible considering the info I introduced last chapter. Hope it didn't ruin this story and verse for readers.

Anyway, now that I've kind-of put the whole history out there more of the story should stay more present focused although I'll probably include some more flashbacks.

* * *

**There's A Fine Line Between Genius and Crazy**

There was a pause then Ender looked up. "So what now?"

Peter glared at him, as if the question was ridiculous. "You tell me how to find this Madrid character and my agents stop him. Problem solved."

Ender shook his head then looked over at the other three adults in the room (Neal didn't count). "Does someone here want to clue him in, because clearly he's not listening to me at the moment. If he ever did," the kid finished in a snit.

The agent rolled his eyes. "Someone want to tell me what he's talking about?"

"You can't just arrest Madrid Peter." Neal told him.

"I think we know how to deal with psychopaths Neal. It may not be White-collar's forte but we have an entire squad of agents who specialise in this."

"You want to try?" Neal turned to Joan, Arthur and Sterling.

"They're right Agent Burke. Madrid is ruthless. You've never gone after someone like him." Arthur pointed out.

"As I said. The FBI knows how to handle psychopaths."

"I don't think you do." Sterling cut in, but Peter chose to ignore him.

"You think because you went through some 17 week course on how to be an agent you can go up against a guy like Madrid." Ender explained. "We trained from the moment we entered that school, with the best experts in weapons, hand-to-hand combat and every other tactical skill imaginable. And that's all we did. Day in and day out. You've seen Neal shoot. Could any one of your agents make the shot he did, or would you be missing a kneecap?" At everyone else's questioning looks he quickly added. "Neal shot a guy in the leg by shooting through the fabric of his pants."

Neal looked smug, and everyone else just rolled their eyes. The fact that no one seemed surprised by that pronouncement was a bit disconcerting. All of Peter's agents had been sufficiently awed.

"Fine." Peter wasn't in the mood to fight. "What do you suggest I do to fix this since you suddenly want to be all grown up?" He asked Ender.

"Give me a gun and let me kill him." Was the immediate response.

Peter just about choked.

"That is not happening."

"Ender's a better shot them I am Peter." Neal quietly added.

"I don't care, I'm not giving my six year old a gun so he can kill someone. Why are you people encouraging this?" He added with a glare.

"Then give me the gun and I'll finish it." Neal told him, holding out his hand.

Peter started shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous Neal. I'm not letting you become a killer because this guys a creep. And you hate guns."

Ender dropped into the nearest chair and began to pout. "Fine, but when we end up dead you're going to feel very badly about it."

"No one is going to die. We're finding this lunatic and putting him behind bars. We already have him for making the threats, and by the time this investigation is finished I'm sure we can make some more charges stick." Peter was ready to kick everyone out of his office and talk to Hughes. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say yet, but after almost four years of working with Neal he was better at adlibbing.

"If I still have a face I want an open casket funeral. And something oak. Or cherry. And I've prewritten my entire eulogy. It has some great tearjerker moments. You'll cry for sure."

"Ender you're not going to die."

"Yeah, if you give me a gun I won't."

Peter was tired of the attitude. "It's non-negotiable. Look, I want whatever you have on this guy and then my agents and I will handle it."

"Mistake." Neal muttered to himself, but loud enough for Peter to hear.

"No Neal!" Peter stabbed his finger in the man's direction. "You don't get to lecture me about right and wrong, not with your track record for stupid decisions. Whatever led up to this it is my responsibility to fix it, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"We can go over your head Agent Burke." Arthur pointed out. "One call to your director."

"Then that's what it takes." Peter wasn't going to be intimidated. "Make your call, but until I hear otherwise, get out of my office."

"No you can't make them leave, I want them here." Ender's face was furious.

"These people kidnap children Ender. They kidnapped you and they kidnapped Neal, and I may not be able to arrest them, but I sure as hell can make sure they never come near any of you again."

"I think you forgot the part where we wanted to be there." The kid pointed out, his features still in a pout.

Peter held up his index finger in a classic parent's 'You better listen to me' pose. "You're too young to make those decisions for yourself. There's a big difference between being a genius and being an adult, and if you don't understand that you're not as mature as you think."

Ender put his hands on his hips. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Oh yes I can." Peter grabbed his arm. "I'm your father so telling you what to do is my job."

The kid looked ready to argue again, and Neal also had an excuse on his lips when there was a knock at the door, and Diana opened it.

"Boss." Her voice was urgent. "Someone just made a bomb threat on the building, we're being ordered to evacuate."

Peter just stared at her. "What? When?"

"Just now," she replied. "The director called Hughes. Everyone's heading to their evacuation points."

Ender took a step backwards. "This is a trap. I'm not leaving the building."

"It's a bomb threat. We follow protocol." He pointed to the door, leading to the stairwell, agents and support staff were already pouring through. "Through there, at the bottom take the first exit and head across the street. Let's go."

Neal shook his head. "I'm with Ender, this building hasn't had a threat like this until suddenly Madrid sends us threatening photos? Way to convenient."

Peter didn't feel like arguing. He simply picked up Ender and grabbed Neal's arm. "I don't care if this turns out to be a prank phone call from the drunk on the corner, we are following protocol and exit the building." He began to walk towards the door.

"And what happens if Madrid is using this so he can shoot us?"

"If this guy is as crazy as you keep telling me, you don't think might actually try to blow up the building?"

The other three adults exchanged glances. "We get out of the building," Arthur Campbell motioned for the door.

Ender began to struggle and wail, but Peter kept a firm grip on him.

"Peter I'm going to have to use this moment to offer my strongest, most stringent protest about leaving," Neal began, as the agent pulled on his arm.

"Shut up and keep walking Neal."

"I really don't think you under…"

"Neal if you don't stop talking I will shoot you myself."

Neal clamped his jaw shut as everyone pushed through the emergency exit and headed down the stairs.

It was a long way down twelve flights of stairs, and even descending the staircase Peter began to feel his legs burn. Of course the added weight of a squirming six year old didn't help the situation. Adrenaline however was always his friend during stress, and it seemed to kick in a bit during the last leg of the journey.

At the bottom they headed across the street to where white collar always met during practice drills. Hughes was already taking a headcount. Peter felt bad since it tended to be his job. Hughes breathed a visible sigh of relief when they walked up. "We're up, I'll go tell the assistant director."

Peter nodded. Ender had given up trying to get away and settled for his old compensatory skill of sucking his thumb. It was rarer and rarer that Peter saw this habit, but the pattern clearly wasn't anywhere near broken.

Across the street the bomb squad was preparing to enter the building, search teams dividing up, some with dogs. A lot of the agents had found a place to sit or lean, knowing the process would take a while. The New York City field office was one of the agencies largest, so it would take time for the teams to search and clear every floor.

Neal kept glancing around nervously as if expecting to see people start falling like flies. Peter wasn't too thrilled about being exposed after everything he'd just learned, but he felt better knowing there were crowds of people milling around, and many of them agents.

A short time later he fielded a call from El, who had been watching the news on her break and saw mention of threat on television. Peter wasn't prepared to tell her everything yet. Well, he didn't want to mention much of anything except to tell her all was fine and this was just a safety precaution based on what was thought to be a prank phone call. She'd be angry later when he finally manage to get the full truth out, but for now it was safer if everyone wasn't clumped together in the same place.

Peter glanced around to see Neal whispering with his three 'friends' off to the side. He couldn't hear what they were saying but Neal was gesticulating with his hands and looking worried.

The worry wasn't exactly something Peter could blame him for; after all it had to be pretty scary to get a photo like that. And if Peter really thought about it, he could understand why Neal didn't want to tell him. Ender certainly hadn't been forthcoming either. Peter was worried about the whole I'm from the past, little fantasy story he'd cooked up. El was more of the shrink, having grown up hearing about it from her father, but Peter knew enough about psychology to decide sucking his thumb wasn't the only coping skill the kid had developed. But after everything he'd been through who could blame him if he wanted a make believe life.

Hughes walked back over a short time later and pulled Peter aside. "They bomb squad says it going to take at least a couple more hours. Tell you people to go get some coffee or something and be back at two. No sense people freezing to death while we wait."

Peter nodded, grateful that while Hughes could be a stickler for the rules he did look out for the people underneath him. He sent his agents and support staff away with the message, and their area cleared pretty quickly with most people anxious to get somewhere warm.

Peter was about to find Neal and leave himself when he heard Hughes calling his name and turned back.

"Any reason why the D/NCS of the CIA was in your office?"

"Uhhh." Peter really didn't want to have to explain this on the spot. Especially with other people milling around. "He had a question about a case we were working on."

"And he couldn't call?"

"It's the CIA." Peter threw out, hoping that statement would say it all. Or at least that Hughes would interpret it in a way that would stop the questions.

"Are they giving you trouble? Do I need to make some calls?" The senior agent asked.

Peter immediately shook his head. "No I think I have things under control. We were just about finished when Diana gave me the news to evacuate."

Hughes gave him an inscrutable look for a moment then shrugged. "Glad to see you're getting a lot of overtime lately Burke. Orthodontists are expensive."

Peter glanced down at Ender who still had his thumb in his mouth. "We don't get overtime," he muttered even as Hughes walked away smirking. For a brief moment he attempted to remove the thumb but Ender just jerked away and then resettled, thumb in place.

"You're just doing this to piss me off." Peter told the kid who simply ignored him.

This definitely was not the hill Peter planned to die on so he located Neal, who now stood by himself. "Where's the goon squad?" Peter asked looking around. Apparently these sorts of people showed up, gave life-changing news and then fled the scene.

"They'll be in touch." Neal shrugged. "And anyway, if anything happens we can get a hold of them now."

"Carrier pigeons or smoke signals?" Peter asked, with a touch of irritation.

"No, their personal cell numbers." Neal held up a piece of paper, which Peter immediately snatched out of his hand.

Neal didn't seem too perturbed. "I already memorised them."

Peter was not in the mood for any sort of argument after the morning they had just had. "I need some coffee. Preferably Irish."


	10. Weakness Is Only In The Mind

**A/N: ** Thanks again to all the people who are following the story and a special thanks to all the faithful reviewers. Your support is greatly appreciated. I realise the last few chapters have been a bit slow. At the request of a couple reviewers I tried to pick things up in this chapter. Also for my whump lovers there is some in this chapter. I try to keep my stories medically sound so I think this works without being over the top or unrealistic.

* * *

**Weakness Is Only In The Mind**

Neal almost wished Madrid would just shoot him and put him out of his misery. The six hour wait to be let back into the building was nothing short of torture. The bomb squad had to search every room with dogs and other devices. While this was going on, Peter refused to let anyone leave the area farther than the coffee shop around the corner, and he didn't want Neal or Ender out of his sight, in case Madrid really was around with a rifle ready to open fire. The over-protectiveness had definitely started drain Neal's energy.

June must have sensed he was having a bad day, coming at the end of a long list of bad days because she had her cook prepare medium rare steaks, green beans, mashed potatoes, and tiramisu. After finishing their meal, the two of them sat together at the dining room table, for almost an hour, just chatting about her upcoming trip to Rome. Since the kids lived all over June arranged several yearly trips to spend time with her kids and grandkids. Neal toured Rome several times before his courtship with the legal system and eagerly shared a few (completely alleged) stories, which he knew June always enjoyed hearing.

As a thank you for the meal Neal helped June carry a stack of packages up to the second floor. She'd shopped for the grandkids earlier that day and the items had been delivered that evening. Neal balanced most of the stack while June carried an oddly shaped parcel she said was her new sun hat for their visit to Tuscany.

Entering the upstairs lounge Neal tightened his grip, to keep from dropping everything. He was just about to put the boxes down on the small centre table when he suddenly felt something pinch his hand. In surprise and pain, he let go; the packages tumbling to the table.

"Sorry, sorry," Neal quickly apologised sucking at his finger, and surveying the mess. There were no sounds of shattering glass so at least nothing had broken.

June didn't look upset, just confused. "What's wrong?"

"Something just stabbed me." Neal carefully inspected the finger for a moment and noticing a drop of blood.

"There shouldn't be anything sharp…" She shifted through the packages and suddenly gasped.

Neal shuffled forward, finger still in his mouth, then jerked back as he saw what June was staring at. Jutting out of the box was a long thin piece of metal, the type that normally came attached to a syringe.

It took a moment for the shock to wear off before Neal realised exactly what had happened. As the truth sunk in, his heart beat more rapidly and he could feel his breaths quicken.

"Neal?" June's voice was far away as the blood roared in his ears. "Neal, are you all right?" She repeated.

Neal didn't know. A syringe carrying some unknown substance had punctured his skin and now his heart was about to pound out of his chest with air in short supply.

Dropping to his hands and knees, Neal tried in vain to calm his breaths and slow his heart rate, but failed miserably. His vision kept blurring in and out and the room spun as he became more light headed.

A moment later a hand appeared on his shoulder and he sensed June crouching next to him. Her voice was far away, making it impossible to understand her words and the only sound available was the pounding of his own heart.

The next moment he was sucking air through a straw, desperately trying to force any air into his lungs. June's voice was still unintelligible but he thought he could make out "…calling 911." Then she was gone and the floor vibrated beneath Neal's hands and knees as she hurried across the hardwood.

Neal had no idea what was wrong, but it felt like he was either having a heart attack or an anaphylactic reaction. He forced his mind think about anything he was that allergic to that caused a reaction this strong. Nothing came to mind, but it was getting harder to focus as the panic set in. He'd been stung by a hive of bees a while back, so maybe he'd developed an anaphylactic reaction to bee venom, but that didn't explain why a syringe of bee venom might be in one of June's packages.

An eternity later June was back, crouching down next to him and whispering in his ear. Neal still couldn't understand what she was saying, but her tone was soothing and he could tell she was trying to offer comfort.

It took every ounce of his strength for Neal to keep forcing air into his lungs. His heart rate increased with every passing moment till he could feel the pounding in his head. A short time later blackness crept at the edges of his vision and he prayed for relief.

* * *

Peter leaned against the back of the dining room table contemplating his next move. The decision was between F4 and B2, chessboard spread out in front of him, and black and white pieces scattered across the chequers.

Ender sat across from him, black Nikes swinging back and forth while he waited for his turn. The two of them often played a game of chess in the evening.

Settling on his strategy, Peter moved his knight, and hit the clock. For some reason the kid loved playing with a chess timer. He insisted it made the game more authentic, but Peter privately thought he just like hearing the click of the button.

Now that it was his move Ender immediately sat up on his heels to stare at the board. His little hand hovered over first a pawn, and then a knight before settling on his bishop. He slid the piece across horizontally to take one of Peter's castles.

Peter stared, as Ender smugly picked up the castle and used it to hit the clock button.

"And what do you think you're doing exactly?" He questioned casting a glance at his rook, which Ender still clasped in his tiny hand.

"Making my next move; now it's your turn." He rocked back and forth on his heels and then began lining up his captured pieces according to height.

Peter looked down at the board. "Unless the rules of chess have changed in the last 30 seconds and I didn't know about it, bishops move on the diagonal."

"I know," Ender shrugged nonchalantly.

Peter nodded. "So why did you capture my castle horizontally?"

Ender looked at the board then at the castle. "Because I wanted it so I can get checkmate."

"By making an illegal move."

"It's not _that_ illegal. The arrest wouldn't even hold up in court."

The agent didn't look impressed.

"It's _your_ move," Ender repeated as El walked in. Her sharp eyes took in the situation and she mouthed, _What's going on?_ To Peter.

Peter shook his head. "Okay, that's fair," he conceded. "That means I can do this." He moved his queen in an L to take Ender's.

The kids eyes widened as he watched his piece taken off the board and placed with the other pieces Peter had captured. "Nooooo, you can't do that," he wailed. "Mommy! Daddy's cheating."

"I thought we were making our own rules?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "You want to move your bishop horizontally, I move my queen like a knight."

There was a brief pause where Ender sat there eyes huge and mouth agape. Then he leapt off his chair rushed over and wretched the piece out of Peter's hand, returning both queens to their previous positions on the board. "You're supposed to know better. You're an adult. I'm just a kid. It's not my fault if I cheat."

Glancing over at El, Peter wasn't surprised to see her silently laughing.

He just shook his head. "So because you're a kid you can move wherever you want, since you're not 'supposed' to know better?"

Ender nodded vigorously. "Exactly."

"Then why don't you just play yourself? You can make up all the rules you want and always win." Peter stood up to leave.

"But I want to beat you." The whine was incredibly obvious. Ender's hand latched onto Peter's wrist as he went by. "You promised." His pathetic pout, and sad eyes would have made Neal proud.

"So what's wrong with playing by the rules?"

"Because I want to win." The kid whimpered. "And winning is fun because I get a prize. And bragging rights." He added the last bit as an after thought.

"Well when you put it that way," Peter muttered.

"Something tells me you could win even if you didn't cheat." El point out with a smile. She walked over and kissed the crown of the kid's head.

Ender pulled away and puckered his face. He still couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he wanted El's affection or not. Some days he liked to cuddle non-stop, then other days he refused even a simple touch. "But that's no fun. I want to win my way." He rubbed at his head, trying to fix his hair.

"Because winning is the most important thing in life?"El questioned.

"I know." Ender beamed and then reached over and moved Peter's pawn forward a space. "You should move it there so I can move my knight. Then I win."

There was really not a lot to say to that, and Peter wasn't even going to try to argue. "Fine you can brag to the office you won a rigged game."

"Well I'm bored because I can't do anything fun. You won't even let me walk Cafall outside. He's being stifled and he won't grow to his full potential if he's not allowed to play."

"He can use stifled and potential together in a sentence, but he can't win a game of chess without cheating." Peter headed across the kitchen to give El a kiss.

She laughed. "So what did you want to win besides bragging right's Ender? Ice-cream?"

He puckered his face. "It's not triangular."

Peter never understood this line of reasoning; Ender was the pickiest eater he had ever met, and made no sense about his food choices. "What is it with you and triangles?"

"Squares are bad. Triangles are good so I only eat triangles."

The agent had long since learned not to think too hard about any of Ender's reasons for things. "Do want ice cream or not?"

"It's not triangular." The kid repeated more forcefully, putting extra stress on the last word.

"And that makes it inedible?" Peter was going to get a headache if this kept up. "It's not like we put cyanide in it."

"What if I put it in a triangular bowl?" El was good at playing peacemaker.

Ender's lips puckered for a moment, clearly considering his argument before he finally shrugged. "All right."

"Praise the Lord, he's almost normal." Peter muttered under his breath.

El just laughed again and reached for the bowls. One suddenly dropped from her hand and shattered on the floor as she startled from a crash in the living room. It sounded like someone had kicked the door in.

Peter whirled around his hand going for his gun. "Stay here."

Rushing into the other room, he arrived to see two men stepping past the wrecked door, now hanging precariously off its hinges.

The first one reached for a pistol but Peter fired first causing the man to go down with a cry as the bullet hit his chest, blood starting to blossom. The second one managed to rush forward grabbing for Peter's weapon, and the two struggled back and forth each desperately seeking purchase and possession of the gun.

Peter felt an elbow in his ribs, and he winced twisting around to keep the gun from pointing into him. Using sheer muscle he pushed the weapon away causing the other man to let go and step back. Peter didn't have time to get a shot off before the man recovered and took a swing that glanced across his cheek.

The weapon slipped from his fingers, skittering under the couch and out of easy reach. Peter blocked the next punch, swinging back and catching the man in gut. Punching again he solidly connection with face and the other man went down.

He stood there for a second, deep breaths providing much needed oxygen when another crash in the kitchen reverberated in his ears.

Seconds later there was a scream belonging to El and Peter lurched forward. He made it back to the kitchen in time to see El topple backwards into the table. Chess pieces flew in every direction as she broke her fall with her hands on the tabletop and they collided with the board.

"El!" Peter screamed. He reached for his gun, momentarily forgetting he'd lost it in the previous scuffle, and simply grasped at air.

Seeing his opportunity the man turned his attention to Ender who stood wide eyed and plastered against the fridge. Peter was too far away to do anything except watch as the man stepped forward, hand clapping onto Ender's shoulder.

If Peter didn't see what happened next he wouldn't have believed it. For a brief moment Ender stood frozen as the hand closed on his shoulder, the next second he stepped forward, two tiny hands latching onto the larger one. In one swift moment used his momentum to twist the man's hand towards his chest continuing the motion until Peter heard a snap.

An agonizing scream followed and the man doubled over clutching at his now broken wrist. Ender stumbled away, face full of shock at what he'd just done.

"Get out of the house," Peter scooped Ender up then grabbed El's wrist pulling her along as he rushed out the back door.

Stumbling across the lawn Peter fumbled around Ender, for his cell phone.

"We can't leave Cafall, or Satchmo!" Ender struggled trying to break free.

Peter refused to loosen his grip but managed to open his cell phone and dial 911. "This is Special Agent Peter Burke of the FBI, I need officers at my house immediately. There are armed intruders inside. 716 Brighton Lane. Just track my freaking cell phone," he snapped.

El had pulled Ender out of Peter's arms and into her own, and the three of them staggered out the rear gate and around the back lawns till they made it to the front of the townhouse row.

"Cafall! Daddy you have to go back." Ender was screaming and sobbing.

"Ender wait for the police." As bad as Peter felt about leaving the dogs in the house he didn't have his weapon, making it nearly impossible to safely re-enter and see if they were all right.

The kid kept struggling against El, refusing to be soothed, even as Peter heard sirens and saw distant flashing lights.

As those lights drew closer Peter heard his cell phone ringing and roughly hit the call answer button. "Burke!" The phone pressed against his ear even as his eyes kept flickering around at the scene.

"Wait, what Diana? Slow down. Neal's where?"


	11. Stand in the Rain

**Stand In The Rain**

It was starting to drizzle, tiny drops coating everything they fell on, and adding to the chill already in the air. Ender was still crying in El's arms, the water droplets mixing with the salty tears on his face. Between the sobs he kept begging them to let him rescue his puppy. Peter had seen all three men go down so he didn't think there was too much to worry about, but when dealing with criminals anything was possible.

As much as he had wanted to go back in and take a few more discreet jabs or kicks at the men who had broken into his house Peter also wanted to remain with his family. Actually he wanted the police officers inside to tell him everything was all right so he could get his keys and drive to the hospital.

Diana had called him ten minutes ago to tell him Neal had been taken by ambulance to the closest emergency room. She had assured Peter June was with him and the doctors indicated he was stable, but that didn't change the fact that it was a hospital. There was little more information she could give, but Diana assured him she would keep track of things and let Peter know of any changes in Neal's condition.

Peter glanced up in time to see several police officers leading two of the suspects away in cuffs and a couple minutes later a back bag was wheeled out on a stretcher. As much as Peter regretted taking a life he didn't regret protecting his family.

"Peter, are you guys all right?" Whirling around Peter saw Jones jogging towards him.

A shake of the head. "Those people broke into our house and tried to hurt my family. I want to know who they are, and why this happened?"

"No one's hurt?" Jones surveyed the scene and his eyes narrowed as the body bag rolled by.

"No one who matters." Peter rubbed at his temples. "Do me a favour?" At Jones' nod he pressed on. "My gun rolled got knocked under the couch. Can you get it and then find Cafall? If I have to listen to that…" he gestured towards Ender who had given up crying and resorted to sucking furiously on his thumb, "…any longer I'm going to lose it."

Chuckling, Jones headed off into the house. Peter checked his phone but there were no messages. He took no news and good news.

A few minutes later Jones returned. He paused to pass Peter his weapon before handing a quivering puppy to a delighted Ender who squealed and clutched Cafall to his chest.

"Satchmo is refusing to move. Apparently two female EMT's are worried he might be traumatised and petting was the best solution."

"Con artist. He's spending too much time around Neal. Oh shiii…" Peter stopped short and glanced over at El, who gave him a withering look. "Can you take care of things here Jones, I have to get to Roosevelt hospital. Diana told me Neal was taken there about fifteen minutes ago."

"Why? What happened?"

"She doesn't know, just said he seems stable now."

"What the hell is this all about? First those photos, now all this." The younger agent shook his head clearly at a loss. Then, "Yeah, go Peter." Jones gestured for him to leave. "I got this."

Peter motioned El over. "Hon do you want to come with me?"

She paused for a moment clearly mulling over the decision. "No, I'll take care of things here. The police are staying, right?"

"Yeah. I'll let them know where I'm going, they'll want to take a statement since I discharged my weapon, but I gotta check on Neal."

El was visibly upset. There was nothing worse than caring about someone and not knowing what was wrong with them. "What happened?"

All he could do was shrug. "I don't know but Diana is there and she says he seems stable."

She briefly kissed his cheek. "Go. Just figure out what is going on, and fix it."

"I will." Peter spoke with a nearby officer then, pulled his keys from his pocket and let them dangle from his fingertips as he walked to the Taurus.

A moment later he turned to the sound of feet chasing after him. "Daddy wait, I want to go."

"No, a puppy can't come in the hospital."

"I gotta see Nealcen." Ender insisted with a fervent little face, and pout playing out on his lips.

"Give Cafall to Mommy, and I'll take you."

Ender just looked at him and nodded in agreement before climbing in the car his puppy still in his arms.

* * *

Peter had no idea how the kid sweet talked admissions into allowing a puppy into hospital, but Cafall was still in Ender's arms as they walked through the halls to room 215E.

There had been some sort of discussion about seeing eye dogs that Peter stubbornly refused to listen to, although he supposed the little harness the puppy wore, since collars and leashes didn't fit properly, could be mistaken for the ones worn by service animals.

Ender looked especially pleased with himself as he trailed along taking in the sights.

Up ahead Peter saw Diana sitting in a chair and reading a magazine, something about guns. She rose as soon as she saw him, and then quirked her eyebrows at the puppy.

"Just don't," Peter cut her off before any awkward questions could be raised. "How's Neal?"

"He seems fine. Kicked me out of the room, but the doctor and Mr. Insurance are in the with him."

The agent made a face. "What?"

"Sterling, the guy we thought was Hagan. Apparently he and Neal are friends or acquaintances or Neal's working out a secret deal to get reward money for things he's stolen, because he asked me to leave and Sterling to stay. He was so upset I didn't want to make things worse. Not like he can escape."

"It's Neal."

Diana shrugged. "Yeah, but since the doctor has come running out saying Neal hasn't scaled the wall with IV tubing I think we're good."

As much as he hated to admit it, Diana made a good point so Peter just knocked on the door and entered a moment later.

Neal was sitting up on the bed, legs folded beneath him and blanket tucked under his knees. His face was pale, and an IV with who knew what, was currently dripping into his arm. The doctor and Sterling glanced up when Peter walked in, Ender darting around as the door swung close.

"He's in training as a service dog and he needs to get used to being in public." Ender glared before anyone could say anything.

The doctor's jaw opened for a moment then snapped shut again.

Forgoing any further problems Peter jumped in. "I'm Agent Peter Burke, and Neal is my FBI partner. What's happened Doctor…?"

"Dr. Richards." The other man extended his hand. He had salt and pepper hair and a firm grip.

"Mr. Caffrey was admitted to the ER after experiencing a rapid heart beat and difficulty breathing. Initially it was thought to be an anaphylactic reaction or cardiac arrest, however after further tests it looks like a panic attack."

Peter's eyes jerked over to Neal who sat there, slender fingers fiddling with the edges of his blanket. "A panic attack? Seriously? Neal Caffrey had a panic attack?"

"It's not my fault, I thought someone injected me with bee venom, and I might be allergic." Neal muttered at the bed still refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Mr. Caffrey was helping his landlady carry some packages upstairs when he was stuck with an epinephrine autoinjector in one of the boxes."

"What's June doing with Epipens in the boxes she's having you carry?" Peter demanded.

"She didn't know it was in there. I was helping her carry some packages of things she'd bought earlier that day. The needle came out the side of the box and poked me in the hand."

"Okay, so how did an Epipen create a panic attack?" Neal was the last person Peter every pictured suffering from any sort of anxiety problem.

"Epinephrine is adrenaline. It speeds up the heart rate. Couple the biological reaction with the mental of being injected with an unknown substance and it's actually pretty easy." The doctor waved his hand. "We're running tests on the injector to ensure there wasn't anything else in the syringe, and we drew blood from Mr. Caffrey, but so far he seems fine. Anxiety attacks drain the body of energy so he's on a lactated ringers drip to help his system rebalance."

Neal kept fiddling with his blanket, and ignoring everyone in the room.

"I'll leave you be, if you have any questions or concerns the front desk can page me." And the doctor left, robes swirling as he walked out.

Peter just stared at Neal for a moment. It was dead silent for the longest time with Peter unsure exactly what to say.

Finally behind him Ender broke silence. "Nunquam finem. Donec nos occidere eum."

"Est lascivio a venatus. Et nos sumus calculos." Neal responded.

Ender rolled his eyes. "Ego sum neminem, cuius calculos."

Peter was tired of the games. "My Latin is a bit rusty so everyone will speak in English from now on."

"Still think you can handle this on you own Agent Burke?" Sterling stepped out of the shadows, his tone grim. "They're right, it's never going to end. Madrid is playing a game, and it's only just begun. You think this was intense, it's nothing. You're just one of his pawns if you think you can handle the situation."

The words had barely left the other man's mouth and Peter was seeing red. Stepping forward he grabbed Sterling by his lapels and slammed him against the back wall.

"We've received threatening photos. Tonight, there were people in my house, who tried to hurt my wife and son, and Neal is in the hospital. All apparently caused by a person who you people trained and then lost control of. And you have the audacity to blame this on me."

Sterling shoved back causing Peter to let go in order to maintain his balance. "I'm just stating it like it is," Sterling hissed. "We warned you Madrid was dangerous and you refused our help."

"Because your solution was to give my six year old son a weapon and telling him to kill someone," Peter's voice was raised several decibels.

"No, that was his solution. Although, I hope you know you will need his actual help to stop Madrid."

"Get out." Peter pointed toward the door.

"He stays." Neal snapped back.

"Neal," Peter warned.

"He stays," Neal repeated. "I'm an adult I can decide who I want in my room. And I want Patchett here."

Peter put his hands on his hips, his face radiating displeasure. "Neal, you are now a protected witness, so I dictate that."

Neal could a couple deep breaths and silently seethed. "Then send me back to the supermax," he finally blurted out. "I'd rather be there than here if you refuse to listen to anything I have to say."

The agent just stared for the longest time. "You really want to go back to prison Neal?"

"NO! But for once I want you to listen to me and not disregard everything I say just because you're the 'FBI' and I'm nothing more than a criminal."

"You know I don't believe that Neal."

"Could have fooled me." Neal crossed his arms and looked down.

Peter decided El would have his head if she found out he kept harassing Neal while he was in a hospital bed, even if Neal was clearly all right.

"Fine," he conceded, holding up his hands in defeat. "But we have to do something that doesn't involve either one of you committing murder."

"You act like we've never shot anyone before." Ender shrugged putting Cafall on the ground so the puppy could explore the room.

Peter whipped around at that concession, eyes wide.

"We were trained as soldiers. Duh." The kid added in a sarcastic tone.

"It will be a cold day in hell before you ever touch any sort of weapon." The agent insisted.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope people enjoyed the chapter. Sorry there wasn't more whump but I tried to keep things medically accurate, and didn't want Neal incapacitated for the rest of the story. Please tell me what you think, and if you have anything you'd like to see happen in the story. I do try to be accommodating to reviewer suggestions.

I know Ender comes across as a bit more of a brat in this story, and only seems focused on picking up a gun and shooting someone. This story hasn't really talked about much of his and Madrid's history but if you've read the book Ender's Game you know that Madrid tormented and tried to kill Ender. Basically he's a scared kid with the knowledge of an adult but the emotional aptitude and reasoning skills of a child which is why his behaviour constantly seems to flip-flop between I'm ready to take on the world and I'm going to cry and suck my thumb. If people have any sort of concerns, or feel things don't quite fit, please let me know.

Neal and Peter's interactions in the chapter are based on the episode Vested Interest. Neal definitely came across as a bit sulky in both his behaviour and interactions with Peter. So their interactions here don't seem out of character.


	12. Semantics Is A Dead Art

**A/N:** Hopefully readers have not lost interest in this story since it's been a while since the last update. I apologise for not posting sooner, I was travelling and unable to write, and then this chapter has taken a long time to get right. So if you're still interested in the finished product let me know, it helps keep me motivated.

This chapter offers a little more background into the characters' mindsets and has a flashback. I also think it helps explain a little of the bad blood between Ender and Madrid as well as why Neal hasn't said anything to Peter. And I hope it also helps make Ender's character and actions make more sense. If you're familiar with the book Ender's Game you'll see the bits I borrowed and adapted, if not, just pretend I came up with this all by myself.

As always, I own nothing from White Collar or Ender's Game and anything borrowed is strictly for entertainment purposes.

* * *

**Semantics Is A Dead Art**

A few more minutes of steely silence, in which anyone refused to admit defeat, and then Peter whipped around to glare at Sterling. "I'd like to speak with you in the hall. Privately," he tacked on at Neal and Ender's questioning eyes.

Sterling paused for a moment like he wanted to protest, but after a moment his shoulders sagged and he nodded his agreement.

"Neither of you are to even think about leaving this room. Am I clear?" The agent snapped in the most authoritative voice he could muster.

Ender's expression said he was working through Peter's words and looking for loopholes. The agent wondered if it was reflexive.

"Am I clear?" Peter repeated even more forcefully.

Neal nodded and Ender managed to say, "Crystal," in his crisp British lilt.

Peter held the door open and waited for Sterling to exit before he cast one more intense glare at the remaining occupants and followed the other man outside.

Diana glanced up curiously from her gun magazine but Peter held up his hand to circumvent any questions.

"Go get a cup of coffee," he told her, regretting his tone but not the request. After a moment of stunned silence followed by a cold glare at Sterling she gave a silent nod and walked off to find the cafeteria.

Sterling adopted a nonchalant air, as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to the door. "What's this all about?"

"I want to know how serious this is?" Peter demanded.

"You mean if this guy really wants to kill them? The events of the past few days and you're actually asking me that?" The other man almost looked stunned.

"I mean so far this guy, Madrid, or whoever he is, has done nothing but toy with us. The photos, the bomb threat, the syringe, even the guys at my house…Nothing has been lethal. If this guy is as dangerous as you say why hasn't he just followed through on his threat and tried to shoot one of them. And for that matter, why isn't he trying to kill you and the rest of your triad thing, or me? Why is he only trying to kill Ender and Neal?"

Sterling paused for a moment. "He's playing a game, Agent Burke."

"What do you mean?"

"Madrid's a psychopath…" Sterling began to shrug off the question, but when anger flared in Peter's eyes he appeared to seriously consider the question. "It's hard to explain."

"Try me." Peter growled.

Sterling made a face then nodded. "Ever hear of the wilderness of mirrors?"

Peter thought back. "It's an old spy term I thought. Something former spies develop from being in the game to long?"

"A person lives so long in the world of deception they can become extremely paranoid, often unable to distinguish between reality and fiction." The insurance investigator explained.

"And so this is what Madrid has developed? He's lost all sense of reality and now he wants to murder my six year old and my CI." Peter leaned against the wall and mirrored Sterling's pose, and old trick he had learned at Quantico, to help put a person at ease.

Sterling shook his head. "It's what he's trying to create. He wants them looking over their shoulders in constant fear, until the anticipation of death is almost worse than dying itself. He wants them to suffer and believe me, there are more ways to do that than physical torture."

Peter felt his body stiffen, and he pressed his lips together, showing his anger. "How do you know this? I thought you never met the guy."

"It's one of the tactics the school teaches." Sterling shrugged. "We train children Agent Burke. They can't go head to head with adults and expect to win, so we teach them alternative methods, that don't involve brute force. Yes they are trained in tactics, but this is the CIA we're talking about. Most of their training is in espionage."

"Children grow up." Peter pointed out. "Why not just wait till their old enough?"

"And I thought you read the book Agent Burke." Sterling gave a half smirk. "Children are capable of things adults aren't. They're fearless, they're imaginative and they are often underestimated by adults. Look, the Dragons might be unknown to you, but in other groups and governments they are feared. Infamous gods of the impossible. And that has as much to do with their perceived reputation, as it has to do with their actual results."

Peter gaped at him. "Are you seriously telling me your elite fighting force is all some Dread Pirate Roberts illusion? A name? I mean, why wouldn't it be. You're talking up a kid who still sucks him thumb when he's upset like he's an elite soldier who's overthrown foreign governments."

"The Dragons are every bit as skilled as I've told you." Sterling said with a sad smile. "I'm not denying their results, just there methods."

"What?" Peter was confused.

"Contrary to popular belief of some governments, none of our kids can actually walk through walls. Neither do they kill, unless they have no other choice."

Peter did not want to even imagine Ender or Neal ever taking someone's life. "We're getting off topic. You still haven't told me what exactly Madrid is doing."

The other man gave a deep sigh. "He's using the techniques we taught him to torment them until he feels ready to finish the job."

"But I thought your kids are 'The Best'?" Peter finger quoted.

"I don't expect you to understand." Sterling angrily told him.

"Well you better try me, because I'm trying to figure out how to get them to trust me to handle this, because somehow I'm getting the impression if that photo had gotten to Ender before my wife he wouldn't have told me what was going on either."

The other man took a long-suffering breath. "These kids are like family, closer than family even. They don't turn on each other."

"Come on kids don't always get along."

"Of course not." Sterling agreed. "But our kids know that they only have each other. We don't rescue them Agent Burke. When problems arise at the school, short of death, we don't interfere because when they leave our school they won't have us to bail them out. They have to be self-sufficient or they won't survive."

"I wasn't there when they chose him, but from what I understand they looked long and hard to find a child who could be Ender Wiggin. Someone not only gifted as a soldier and leader, but someone the people under him would absolutely trust. Someone who wouldn't let fame go to his head. And they found Timothy.

Your son is good Agent Burke. You've never seen anything but a cute little kid, and that's probably all you'll ever see. Because Ender doesn't care about awards or winning or fame or glory or impressing anyone. All he cares about are the people who matter to him, and doing what's best for them. Soldiers who serve under him are loyal to him and to each other because he is unswervingly loyal to them. That is the type of devotion this kid inspires."

"Just not from Madrid."

"Not from Madrid"

"Look whatever happened between them couldn't have been that bad. We're talking about children." Peter was almost pleading now. He didn't want to accept this, because more than accepting any crap Ender told him about time travel, believing this meant accepting Ender might have done something Peter didn't want to imagine. It didn't matter what anyone said, Ender was still his little boy, and he didn't want to consider their was an alternative side to a little blond haired blue eye angel with sweet smile.

Sterling only gave him a helpless shrug.

* * *

_Ender always liked practicing alone. Granted the other soldiers in the school were always very respectful, almost in awe of him, and he loved training the soldiers under him. But whenever other people were in the room with him he always had an audience watching his every move. And usually someone was brave enough to come ask him a question about his training methods or some Launchie wanted help learning a new manoeuvre._

_And as a commander Ender always believed in helping them because one never knew when the game would be over and the real missions would began. They had to be ready and they had to be the best. Because the real world gave no do-overs and fate never showed mercy just because you tried. But that didn't stop him from needed time to himself._

_He heaved himself up again, his muscles quivering from the weighted pull-ups. After his 50__th__ repetition he just hung there, dangling almost from the very tips of his fingertips, till after a few minutes the fatigue caused him to slip off and drop to the ground. Exhausted he allowed himself to sink down and just think._

_There would be another battle tomorrow. There had been one every day for the past week and Ender knew his soldiers were tired. Heck, he was tired. He didn't know what the teachers wanted from him. Winning? No, he'd won every time and it still wasn't good enough. May be they wanted to see how long he could keep up this exhausting schedule before he broke? Or how long before his soldiers broke? May be this was all just some sick, twisted psychological game. Like the experiments he'd read about in his textbooks where POWs had to carry stones back and forth all day just to see how long it would take before they ran for the electric fences._

_But Ender just couldn't believe that. The teachers may be strict but they would never really let anything bad happen to him. _

_Ender almost wanted to lose just to see what they would do, except he couldn't stand the thought of not winning. Haidren always said he was too competitive, but in battle, losing was usually equivalent to dying and Ender really didn't like that option for him or his soldiers._

_Another moment and then Ender stood, hanging up the vest, he went to gather his bag so he could grab some food before finishing his homework and planning tomorrow's training._

_The bag slung over his shoulder Ender headed for the door before stopping short when he realised his path was blocked._

_Bonito Madrid stood in front of him, eyes wild, lackies to his left and right._

_"Hello Wiggin," he said quietly._

_Ender didn't say anything. Just let his eyes flicker back and forth over the group._

_"No teachers are coming." Madrid crossed his arms across his chest. "And you're about to get what's coming to you."_

_He took a step forward and Ender took one back. The other boys surrounding Madrid teetered and laughed._

_"Ender Wiggin. Thinks he's so special. Teachers pet." More laughter. "The only reason you're a commander at age nine is because the teachers felt sorry for you. Gave you a reject army who only wins because the teachers fix every battle."_

_"As I recall, you're the one who couldn't even win when he cheated." Ender referenced their previous battle. It was a stupid thing to say, egging the other boy on, but Ender couldn't let the jab go. He worked hard for his wins, despite the teachers doing everything possible to make him lose._

_Madrid growled and took another step forward. His eyes were like ice and Ender knew if a fight broke out, with six against one, they_ _would either kill or seriously maim him._

_"Afraid to fight some younger and smaller than you by yourself." Ender puffed himself up to his full height trying not to show fear. _

_The other boys just jeered but Madrid stiffened. "I'm not afraid." He answered quietly._

_"Come on Bonzo, let's just pound him and get out of here." Some of the other boys were clearly getting bored._

_"Shut-up." Madrid snapped. At their confused murmurs he all but shouted. "I said shut-up. This is between him and me so stay out of it_."

_Ender mentally prepared himself. Even one-on-one Madrid had six inches on him. And most likely more hand-to-hand combat training. He still didn't know if he could win this, but since the alternative would most likely put him in the hospital or six feet under he didn't have a choice._

_Madrid edged forward and Ender edged back. It was like a dance, an extremely slow dance that at any moment could turn into a brawl. _

_"Come on Bonzo, enough already, finish him." One of the boys egged on. _

_Ender could see Madrid ready to strike and did the first thing that came to his mind. He swung out high and hard with his bag connecting across Madrid's face and causing the other boy to stagger back. _

_The older boy look surprised. He stood their completely stunned then reached up to touch his now bleeding cheek, where the metal clasp of Ender's bag had sliced skin leaving an ugly gash._

_"You're dead." His voice was cold. _

_Ender almost wasn't ready when Madrid lunged at him, sending them both toppling to the ground. The cheers of the other boys were merely echoes in his ears as Ender twisted and curled, desperate to protect his internal organs from any blows._

_Knowing it would hurt, but not caring, Ender twisted in the other boy's grip all but wrenching his shoulder out of socket in an attempt to gain a better position. Biting his cheek to combat the pain, Ender managed to bring his knee up into Madrid's groin causing the boy to howl and release his hold. _

_With lightening reflexes Ender flipped to his feet. He glanced around hoping the teachers had heard the commotion and had finally come to stop the fight, but no such luck._

_The hesitation cost him as Madrid grabbed his ankle pulling him off his feet. As soon as he hit the ground Ender swung with his bag again, causing the grip on his ankle to loosen and in a moment of desperation he yanked free and then kicked the older boy in the face._

_Blood spurted from Madrid's nose and he now clutched at his face, curling up against the pain. _

_His chest heaving, barely able to catch his breath, Ender grabbed for the nearest dumbbell, clenching it so tightly his knuckles were white. He raised it over his head ready to strike again and end the fight._

_No one else in the room seemed to make a sound. All eyes were on Ender, many with horrified expressions on their faces. _

_Another moment passed with Ender and Madrid just staring at each other._

Do it!_ Madrid's dark eyes seemed to say. _Finish it now.

_For another moment the weight wobbled in his grip before it fell from Ender's hand and thudded on the ground._

_Still gasping for air Ender looked around and then walked away, out of the gym, down to corridor, and to his room where he lay on his bed and cried. Cried for what had happened, for what he did and for what he had almost done._

_Madrid was sent home the next day. Later Ender found out the last thing Madrid said before they took him away was that Ender should have killed him._

* * *

"Because Ender showed him mercy." Sterling finally answered. "And to Madrid that is shame he will never live down."

"I don't understand."

Sterling just shrugged. "Some people can't take defeat."

"Why Neal? Why not just Ender? And why not the rest of us?" Peter asked again.

The other man seemed to seriously consider the question. "I think because they represent everything Madrid lost."

* * *

Back in the room neither Ender nor Neal said much. Neal nervously fiddled with his IV tubing and Ender conspicuously ignored him and instead watched Cafall explore the room.

Neal felt like he was seven years old, all over again, and just assigned to his army, unsure of what to say or do for fear of looking stupid. It was silly really, considering he was now the adult and Ender still the child. But in a way for him and Ender, the kid would always be commander and Neal a subordinate. When they'd been a team Ender was the incontestable leader. That kid gave an order and no one questioned it even if he'd told them they were going on a suicide mission into hell.

And even though things were different now Neal would ever break Ender's confidence or trust, because Ender would never do that to him.

Another moment of awkward silence and Ender suddenly straightened up. "I'm out of here." He announced, eyes on the window. "I'm finding Madrid and finishing this once and for all."

"We promised Peter we wouldn't leave." Neal pointed out.

Ender pulled a face. "No, we promised him we wouldn't think about leaving, which is kind of pointless if you think about it because when you tell something not to think about something it's usually the first thing that pops into their heads. So since he's the one who technically put the idea in my head…"

"Look whose suddenly splitting hairs."

"Look whose forgotten who taught him how to do it in the first place." Ender snit back. He paused for a moment. "Don't say anything. Cross your heart." Ender mimed zipping his lips closed then made an X over his heart. It was their symbol for a gag order. Once given, each person agreeing would repeat the motions. And once you agreed you didn't break it, even if tortured.

"I just hope you know what you're doing commander." Neal went through the gestures, sealing his fate.

"So do I." Ender walked over to the window and pushed it open. A screen was the only thing between him and the outside and he pulled out a pocketknife, easily slicing through the thing wire. "Take care of Cafall. And tell mum and dad not to worry."

"We should go rob something together. You know," Neal told him. "Once this is over. To celebrate."

Ender nodded, and without another word boosted himself through the window.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I know this wasn't what readers were expecting, but I hope the rest of the chapter helps explain why I chose this route. If not, please let me know.


	13. Playing Not To Lose

**A/N:** Brief mentions of violence, but nothing to graphic.

* * *

**Playing Not To Lose**

_Danny held his breath, the weapon shaking in his small hands. Surrounding him was darkness, only a few small lights illuminating the corridor so he wouldn't trip or run into anyone. Off in the distance he could hear shouts, most likely from other soldiers, as the battle raged on. He could make out a door ahead, the frame illuminated by flashes of red as the lasers from their guns were constantly being fired._

_He tried to control his ragged breathing. A soldier wasn't supposed to be afraid, but Danny was terrified. The sudden bang ahead made him jump and Danny realised someone had most likely run into the door in front of him. _

_Like most of the battles organised for Launchies the rules for winning was last man standing. An entire launch group was placed in the maze of rooms and corridors, and given ten minutes to explore the battle field before the lights went out. After that whoever was left untagged at the end was the victor. Most kids formed teams until the final five when sudden death rules applied. Danny had yet to win a match, or shoot anyone for that matter. It wasn't that he was a bad shot at the practice range. But during the battle, he just got so nervous his hands would shake until he couldn't keep the laser on another person long enough to register the hit. _

_Based on his strategy of hiding he usually made it down to the final five, something that irked the other kids to no end considering his appalling soldiering skills. However Danny's lack of ability to hit anything in battle meant his chances of being hand selected for an army, by a commander, were slim to none. Commanders wanted soldiers who boosted standings in the team rankings. Art skills weren't in high demand._

_Danny ignored the door and crept slowly around a corner. He inched forward till he came to a doorway without a door leading to a dark room. Squinting in the darkness Danny could make out discarded furniture, crates and other rubbish used as obstacles, one could either hide behind or trip over. He couldn't see anyone inside but that didn't mean someone wasn't out of his line of sight. _

_The sounds of the battle were dying down which meant most people had probably been eliminated from the competition._

_Slinking into the room Danny glanced around and ducked behind the nearest piece of furniture, an old desk that had been turned on its side. He crouched down and clutched his gun to his chest. _

"_Just make it through and you can go to art class," he told himself. "It's almost over. It doesn't matter if you win or not, it's just a stupid game. This isn't life or death."_

_On the other side of the room footsteps sounded telling Danny other people had entered the room._

_It was hard to make out the words but Danny thought he heard some sort of arguing. Or, more likely the jeering taunts of the last few individuals trying to talk smack before the final shootout began._

_A couple flashes followed by some swearing and Danny knew someone else had just been eliminated from the competition. _

_Suddenly beeps could be heard on their earpieces, telling everyone only five competitors remained._

_The sound of running came next as kids scrambled for cover, to make a final strategy and try to win. Unlike Danny most kids wanted to do as well as possible, hoping to be selected for an army or special assignment._

_Danny kept quiet, trying not to give himself away. Some of the kids were now shouting taunts daring their competitors to show themselves. _

_A few slung around names or fired their weapons into the darkness. Flashing lights didn't have the same nerve-wracking effect as gunpowder, but they usually made someone move._

_Two kids finally jumped to their feet firing at each other, the cheering of one and cries of another told Danny another person was down._

_Hearing more noise and recognising people coming closer Danny scooted around and looked for an exit. The door to the right was his best bet, so he kept crouched, eyes shifting around trying to see if he would be in anyone's line of sight. _

_Staying low Danny tried to run for the exit then turned when he heard a noise. For a moment both children stood frozen, the other boy clearly surprised Danny had been in the room, then as Danny stood frozen the other boy lifted his weapon and fired. _

_Danny didn't even have the reaction time to raise his own weapon; he simple dropped his arms to his side when his equipment shut down telling him he was dead._

* * *

_Turning in his equipment, Danny grabbed his back and tried not to run out of the room. If he hurried he still might make it to art class. He didn't want to be a soldier anyway._

"_You really shouldn't just try not to lose." The voice behind Danny made him whirl around._

_Leaning against the wall was the boy who had spoken to him when he first arrived at the school. Hand's stuffed in the pockets of his jumpsuit, he had a casual air about him, but at the same time his eyes were no longer soft and sympathetic. They were intense, and Danny hated the way they seemed to look right through him._

"_It's just a stupid game. I don't care if I win. And I'm late to art class so excuse me." Danny moved to brush past him. He also bristled at being told he should do better. He'd come to this school to be an artist after all. Not play GI Joe._

"_And when they start handing out real bullets?" The boy countered. "You can't hit squat, and you wouldn't last ten seconds in a real battle."_

_Danny eye's shifted back and forth, nervously for a moment, but then he scoffed. "In case you've forgotten this is a school. We're children. Chilllllddren." He stretched out the first syllable of the word, to emphasise his_ _point._

"_Why do you think you're here? To paint pictures?" The blond boy pushed himself away from the wall, and up to his full height. He was over an inch shorter than Danny, but somehow he still seemed to loom._

"_It's why __**I**__ came here. To be an artist. Why would I want to win this dumb game? Get my name on some list? Get picked for an army? Those things don't matter. I want to be someone the world will remember. Someone important." _

_The boy took a step forward and Danny took a step back thinking his borderline insubordination had gotten him into trouble. For a moment he just held his breath waiting for the blow to come. Then the boy did a sharp right face and took off down the hallway. "Follow me."_

_Danny paused for a moment then reluctantly followed._

_The boy led him through a maze of corridors and stopped at the end next to a restricted access door._

_Danny was about to point out that they weren't allowed in when the boy pulled out a card from his pocket and swiped the reader to the side. A beep, and the red light switched to green._

"_Who are you?" Danny asked._

_The boy didn't answer, just pushed the door open and stepped through._

_Inside wasn't what Danny expected. There weren't rows of fancy computers and monitors, or teachers in the room. On the far wall was a map of the world with coloured pins stuck randomly about. The wall to the right held newspaper clippings and photos of events Danny didn't recognise. On the left were pictures of various students at the school, some bunched together in a mess with pictures overlapping, others forming neat little groups of four or five. _

_Danny was surprised to see his own picture on the wall. He was about to say something when the other boy walked over to the right hand wall and pulled a newspaper clipping off. He turned back around and handed it to Danny to read._

"_Family of Six Held for Ransom." The title of the article read. Danny stared at it for moment then pulled a face and tried to hand it back. He hated even reading about violence._

"_Two parents and four children kidnapped while on vacation. They were beaten and tortured and when the ransom wasn't paid the parents were forced to watch while the children's throats were slit in front of them."_

"_I don't want to hear about this." Danny turned to leave._

_The kid pulled another article off. "Here's a diplomat and his wife who were killed while trying to escape after riots broke out. How about this terrorist group that released saran at a bus station? Or a school shooting that left twenty injured and dead?"_

"_Why are you telling me this?" Was this kid obsessed with violence._

"_Because you said you want to do something that matters. You want to make a mark in this world. What if I told you we have a chance to help stop stuff like this from happening?"_

"_I'd say first I don't want to, and second… you're crazy." _

_The boy threw his hands up in the air. "What do you think all this is about Danny? Playing laser tag?"_

"_We're kid's, of course it's about laser tag. All that other stuff, we can't do anything to fix it. And if you're so into trying to take down bad guys why are you talking to me? I'm no soldier." _

"_I'm Ender." The kid finally introduced himself. "Ender Wiggin. Dragon Army."_

"_I've never heard of Dragon Army."_

_Ender just laughed. "Because I haven't selected anyone yet. I was just promoted. Teachers said I could have my pick of the launch groups. And I'm choosing you. If you want the spot."_

"_You have seriously lost it if you think you want me in your army. I've never even shot one person before in a battle." As flattered as Danny was that someone might actually want him on their team he think he really was the best option. Hell, he wouldn't even pick himself._

_Ender shrugged. "And I'm telling you, if you want do something that matters, you have to start playing like it matters."_

_Danny seriously doubted that, but he felt it was best to keep his opinion to himself._

"_Think about it." Ender tacked the article back up on the wall and moved towards the door. "But if you want to be a great artist or a great anything, you actually have to care."_

* * *

Cafall's pathetic whimpers pulled Neal from his daydream. Neal kind-of knew Peter would kill him, the moment he agreed to the gag order, but in a choice between Peter and Ender, he'd choose Ender every time.

Cafall barked and Neal made a shushing sound. The puppy perked his ears and tilted his head to the side as if asking a question.

"He's coming back." Neal said outloud, almost more to convince himself than to relay any information to the canine.

Cafall ignored him and whined.

"He always comes back." Neal replied. "It's me you should be worried about. Peter's going to kill me, and then who's going to slip you extra puppy treats."

The puppy looked at him again, and barked.

"Yeah, yeah. You don't care." Neal could hear noise on the other side of the door. It sounded like Peter and Patchett were arguing but Neal couldn't make out what they were saying.

A moment later the door flew open and Peter stormed in. "Get your puppy we're going home. Neal I want you to…" Peter stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes fell on the slashed screen. He looked around the room.

"Neal? Where is Ender?"


	14. Questionable Meetings

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter has taken so long. I've rewritten it a few times since I just didn't like how things were flowing. Still not 100% happy, but that's life. Hope you like it. Peter isn't too happy with Neal in this chapter, but don't worry. They'll fix things.

* * *

**Questionable Meetings**

Ender supposed he could have been smarter about his choice to find Madrid on his own. But, standing there in the hospital he knew that if he didn't go then he would be too afraid. It was difficult, being the person in charge. The other soldiers always assumed he was fearless. That nothing every bothered him, and he wasn't afraid of anything, including death. He supposed it was a fair assessment, considering how brash he often was on a mission.

The truth was he was terrified. As he often quoted, "Death is permanent." But his father had always taught him those things didn't matter. No matter how you felt you put on a brave face, and prayed that your bravery inspired those around you to do the impossible.

And it always had. From Mogadishu to Panama and everywhere in between, Ender took his soldier through hell, and they always came out victorious. Despite the odds he'd never lost a single man (or women as Jeszie constantly pointed out). Their sign, often left behind for survivors to discover, inspired fear. Their nickname to some, The Angels of Death.

So, with all that power and respect, it felt a bit ridiculous to be standing in the middle of Times Square shaking with fear, but that was the position Ender currently found himself in. Night had fallen, but the artificial lights of the city illuminated its surroundings, as if it were still day. Around him, people pushed in every direction. Tourists stopped for moment to snap a picture before rushing on. Others hurried on their way perhaps to a club or a show. This truly was the city that never slept.

He knew Madrid would find him. Ender didn't plan to make this the hill he chose to die on, as the saying went, but he wanted things to come to a head. After days of playing by Madrid's rules he wanted to force the man's hand, or rather force him to show himself. Ender needed to regain some of the control he felt had all but slipped through his little fingers, and maybe convince himself he didn't have to be as afraid as he felt. After all, if you lied to yourself enough, you tended to believe your own lies.

He knew mummy and daddy would be furious he had left, but despite all their love they could never understand why had to do this. To them, he would always be their baby, someone to protect and adore, not a soldier. Ender loved that about them. They absolutely cherished him and it had been a long time since someone treated him that way. And it was nice to know, no matter how mad they were, he was absolutely and unconditionally loved.

Knowing it might be a while he found bench off to the side, where his back was guarded and he could observe the comings and goings of people from all three directions, and he waited.

* * *

Neal bit his lip and looked down at his hands. He didn't know why he felt like a contrite child who had just spilled his milk, when he was an adult. But, one glance at Peter's angry face, and he couldn't seem to look up again.

"Where is Ender, Neal?" The agent demanded. "I leave you two alone for five minutes and what? He climbs out the window? What the hell were you thinking?"

Neal wasn't about to break the gag order, but he felt like he needed to say something. "I was thinking he's the boss," he mumbled.

"He's the child!" Peter yelled. "He's the child, you're the adult, adults tell children no."

A moment later a nurse poked her head in the door, pursing her lips in distaste. "Is everything all right in here?"

Peter yanked his badge out of his jacket pocket and held it open. "Official FBI business, everything his fine."

She looked ready to protest but sensing Peter's wrath simply stated, "The patient needs to be resting," and closed the door.

Neal watched her go with longing eyes. He had known the second he had crossed his heart Peter would kill him when he found out. It wasn't a fair choice really, between Peter and Ender, but if he had to do it over nothing would change. And one day Peter would forgive him…Hopefully.

"Where did he go Caffrey?"

Neal winced. If Peter was reverting to using his last name they were only a few seconds away from threats of jail, and being handcuffed to the bed. He could only helplessly shake his head.

"You don't know where he's going or you aren't going to tell me?"

Neal shrugged and pulled at the IV tubing in his hand a bit.

"He gave you a gag order, didn't he?" Sterling spoke up. And when Neal didn't respond prompted with, "Nealcen?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"What's that?" Peter looked between the other two men.

"An order of silence, never to be broken." Sterling replied.

Peter scoffed. "This is getting ridiculous Neal, please stop this game and just tell me where he is."

"I can't," Neal responded in a small voice. "So send me back to prison now because I'm not going to tell you. I gave him my word Peter."

Peter looked ready to raise his voice again when Sterling cut in, his arms folded, as he carefully eyed Neal. "He's not going to tell you Agent Burke. It's not a game to them and I've never known one of them to break it. Even on pain of torture and death."

For a moment the agent wanted to retaliate and scream again, but another look at Neal's slumped shoulders and defeated expression and he deflated. Peter had no idea what sort of bond held Neal and Ender's friendship together, but he was willing to bet Neal's acquiescence to go back to prison wasn't done in jest. Peter could probably drag him there right now in chains and threaten him with the open pen of Supermax and Neal still wouldn't talk.

"Please Neal," he finally begged. "He's just a little boy. He doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

Neal felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to tell Peter, and from what he knew of Madrid he figured Ender could use all the help he could get. But gag orders had worked in the past to save their lives and the lives of others. Ender rarely issued them and when he did it was because he saw no other options.

Maybe Neal had placed Ender on a pedestal, his mind unable to separate out the fantasy versus the reality of who Ender really was. He had been nothing but a child himself when they were friends. He and his fellow soldiers had viewed him as their invincible and all-knowing commander. A little miracle worker, whose wisdom and knowledge had brought them out of the jaws of hell time and time again. And he wasn't willing to give that flight of fancy just yet. Those memories he held as sacred, and he embraced both the good and the bad as the driving force behind the person he was today.

Sterling hmmmed, and for a moment Neal thought he was going force him to break the gag order. Members of the triad could order it, but they were the only ones. A smile played across Neal's lips as he recalled Ender stubbornly staring down the Joint Chiefs and telling them to shove it up their collective asses, when ordered to reveal something that happened on a mission, Ender had chosen the team to keep silent about. The screaming match that followed had been epic and Ender had won. Sterling eyed him, contemplatively and then shook his head. Neal's heart eased it's pounding just a bit, in relief.

"I can't Peter." He finally responded. "My word is all I have left, and I have to keep it."

* * *

Ender was cold. It was still winter after all and even though he had a coat he'd been waiting in the same spot for almost two hours.

So far no one had approached him to ask why he was sitting alone, or even if he was lost. Not that he really expected that to happen in this city. New Yorkers could be rather self-absorbed at times, their minds focused on the task at hand, with little time to spend on other matters. Besides, he welcomed the solitude.

He supposed it really wasn't fair, what he had done to Neal. Forcing him to choose between himself and Peter. Ender knew Neal wouldn't break the gag order, or he wouldn't have issued it. He didn't like issuing them and he never did so lightly, because of what such an order implied, or what it had cost in the past.

Ender could still remembered the sting of a whip cracking over his back, and his arm being twisted so hard it broke, all while a guard screamed, 'Where are the others?' in a foreign tongue. Ender hadn't told. No matter what they had done to him. And none of his soldiers would have either in that position. That order was their last resort of protection. An assurance that while one might be lost, the group and the mission was protected.

And while Ender knew with certainty that his Daddy would never harm Neal in any way, he still knew what that silence would cost. Because Neal cared so much about what Peter thought of him, and wanted from him the same thing Ender did. A father's love.

If Ender could think of another way, he'd have given it a try, but he couldn't think of one. Daddy hadn't believed him. Ender hadn't really expected him too, but that didn't make it any easier. If Ender was truly able to fit all the broken pieces together he might be able to grasp that just because an adult didn't fully understand the situation, it did not mean that their help was entirely worthless.

But Ender had been raised otherwise. It wasn't that adults were untrustworthy, although some certainly were. It was more that adults weren't dependable. Or more accurately that there were situations adults couldn't magically fix. While most children Ender's age still saw adults as superhero's with the power to move mountains despite all odds, Ender had a far more realistic view. When he and his soldiers were in the middle of a combat zone, the adults sitting in an office somewhere across the ocean, monitoring the situation on a screen, couldn't miraculously appear to stop the bullets midair. And adults who did not understand the gravity of a situation were far better off in the dark, then left to offer a useless opinion that would most likely succeed in getting everyone killed.

So while Ender felt badly, he didn't regret his decision. Besides, Madrid was far more likely to talk to him than anyone else.

The temperature seemed to drop another degree and Ender stuff tiny fists into his pockets. Another few seconds of solitude and then the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle as a shadow cast over the bench.

He didn't bother looking up. "Bonzo," he said neutrally.

"Wiggin," the word was spit out in contempt.

Ender looked up, despite his apprehension. Madrid was an adult now. He had been in the group before Neal's and already a commander when Ender came along so he was now in his early forties. But he still held a striking resemblance to the boy Ender had once served under. Tall, with olive skin, dark eyes and chiselled features, Madrid stood their staring down at the small child seated on the bench.

"You've changed." Ender pointed out.

Madrid's lip curled. "You haven't pinprick. It's nice to know you're still useless, untrained, hopeless specimen of underdevelopment."

Knowing it was very unlikely Madrid would attack him on a still crowded New York City street Ender just shrugged and added, "Glad to know not everything's changed Bonzo."

"I don't know what the teachers ever saw in you," Madrid growled. "Their prize little soldier. You were weak. Worthless. Promoted on the backs of other's successes, when you were and are nothing but a talentless little worm."

"Because you had so many successes for me to take credit for," Ender goaded. "Three battles you lost because you wouldn't let me fire a single shot. And when we faced each other in the battle room you couldn't even win when the teachers handed you the victory on a silver platter."

Madrid raised his hand ready to slap Ender, just as he had done all those years ago, right before Ender had been traded to another army. Ender could practically see his muscles flex through his coat. The man's fingers twitched, but then with great concentration he lowered his arm.

"I'm sending you and your friends home on ice Wiggin. That's a promise."

Belaying any fear he felt Ender simply smirked and stood up on the bench. "Good to know I'll go out with a bang. I mean that's what I really learned from you Bonzo. How to fail with style."

The hand clenched again and Ender wondered for a moment if the man might really hit him.

"You really think you'll get away with hurting me on a crowded New York Street. I'll scream so loud every cop in Manhattan will come running." With that Ender hopped down and moved to walk away when a hand closed around his forearm.

"I meant what I said all those years ago Wiggin. You should have killed me when you had the chance. Mercy is for the weak."

Ender took a deep breath. No matter the situation he was in now, he still didn't regret his decision. "I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice."

* * *

**A/N: **Your first glimpse of Madrid. What did you think? Oh and if any of that conversation sounds familiar I may have borrowed a bit from Mr. O.S. Card. He wrote the dialogue between Madrid and Ender so well, it seemed a shame not to use it.

I think some readers have had difficulty understanding Ender's/Neal's reasoning for keeping Peter in the dark, and I've tried to help explain that the past few chapters. Neal's reasons are probably a bit different than Ender's. Ender thinks if he keeps them out of things, his family won't be killed, and if you remember, when he told the story of his past his parents were murdered in front of him. He doesn't want the same thing to happen again. Neal, won't break the order because a). he can't do that to Ender and b). because he wants Peter to trust him. In the show Neal tells Peter he doesn't lie to him, and constantly gives off the impression he wants Peter's trust. By telling Peter he gave his word not to tell, and then not sharing with him the info, to Neal he's proving to Peter he can be trusted to do what he says. Not at all logical, but I dont' think Neal has always behaved logically on the show so it fits.


	15. Honesty Is The Best Policy

**A/N:** A bit of emotional/psychological trauma in this chapter. Nothing too awful, but I always like to warn readers in case something seems trigger.

* * *

**Honesty Is The Best Policy, Except When It's Not**

Unable to calm himself down, Peter paced back and forth across the living room floor. Neal sat on the couch with Satchmo at his feet, and Cafall beside him, all three with heads moving back and forth as they watched Peter wear a hole into the hardwood. The sound of pots and pans banging against each other in the kitchen reminded the two men of El's presence. Not trusting herself, not to yell she had busied herself with reorganising the entire kitchen.

After a rather lengthy conversation, Sterling had convinced Peter not to file any sort of official report until they knew more about the situation. Peter did not grasp the faith this man seemed to have in his six year old son, especially with a deranged psychopath after him, but after conceding that it could serve to further inflame the situation, if Madrid found out, the agent relented.

El must have used the time, they were at the hospital, to clean up because the house was once again in pristine condition.

"He'll be fine Peter." Neal felt the need to point out again, after Peter retraced his steps for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Peter stopped pacing and powerless to bite his tongue, whirled around stabbing his finger in Neal's direction. "Don't patronise me Neal. I don't care how smart he is, or whatever deluded little fantasise the two of you have dreamed up about soldiers and missions and the rest of this crap. You let him walk out that room after I told you specifically to stay put."

"First of all he climbed out the room. And I didn't _let_ him do anything. In case you haven't noticed, he doesn't exactly listen to me." Neal retorted then glanced down at Cafall with a scowl. The puppy looked back up at him and barked in agreement.

"You should have stopped him." Peter's voice was raised far above any normal decibel range. "Instead all I have is this stupid gag order, that you're somehow agreeing to, for reasons I can't possibly grasp."

"You don't break a gag order." Neal yelled back. "Ever. That's why it's called a gag order."

"This isn't a game Neal!"

"I know!"

"Both of you stop yelling." El had appeared in the doorway, her face stormy.

The two men turned toward her, shoulders tense, and breathing heavy.

"Peter sit down, Neal just tell us where he went." El pleaded, her expression softening from fear.

"I don't know where he is." Neal told her. "I swear El." It wasn't breaking the gag order to tell her that and it was the truth. It was a tactic that Neal had learned early on at the school. Regardless of any order given, don't ever give out more information than possible. Ender wouldn't tell him, knowing that omission would give him an out.

El gave Neal a long hard look then turned around and walked back into the kitchen. Neal didn't know if she believed him or not, but he had a felling she didn't trust herself not to start yelling herself.

Peter resumed pacing, every once in a while his hand going to his pocket as if he expected his cell phone to ring.

Neal picked up Cafall and the puppy sighed and curled up in his lap. Cafall didn't seem too concerned by the chaos around him, but then he was rather like Ender. Why worry about things he had no control over.

Several minutes later, when the tension had grown to unbearable, and Neal was wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole, Neal heard the turning of a key in the front doors lock and a moment later the door opened part way.

Ender peaked around the corner, took in the situation and then seeing the eyes on him gave a resigned sigh and stepped into the room.

"Oh thank God." Peter rushed forward and scooped the kid into his arms. After a moment of squeezing to the point where Ender couldn't breath, Peter deposited the kid and the floor and grabbed onto his slender arms. "What's the matter with you? Have you completely lost your mind? I told you to stay put Ender. Staying in that hospital room wasn't optional. Why didn't you listen to me?"

Ender stared at him for a moment, then glanced over at Neal. Neal very slowly shook his head.

"Ender!" Peter snapped. "You could have been killed. Do you understand that? You climbed out a window on the second floor and then went running off to find someone who wants to murder you. To do what, taunt him? And what is this gag order crap? Just because those idiots treat you like an adult, doesn't mean you are one. These games don't work with me. Now tell me what the hell you were thinking."

"And say what? No matter what I say you don't believe me!" Ender screamed at him. "You think I'm lying, or making it up, or crazy. This is why we don't tell you things. You don't believe us!"

"Because you're not making any sense."

Ender tried to jerk away from him. "Since when does that mean I'm lying."

Peter sighed. "Ender I know you believe what you told me. But that doesn't mean it's true."

"Then how do you explain me in that picture?" Ender glared.

"I don't know Ender, Photoshop." Peter really didn't want to get into this conversation right now.

Ender just scoffed. "Adults never listen to children."

"Ender I believe Madrid is real, and that he wants to kill you and Neal. That has to be enough right now. Just tell me what you did."

Ender pinched his lips together, and looked over at the wall in a deliberate snub.

"Don't do this Ender. Talk to me."

Ender looked back defiantly. "What do you want me to say? Because I'm not changing my story."

"Where did you go?"

The kid just shrugged and looked at the ground. "I found Madrid," he answered.

"And?" Peter and Neal asked at the same time, but for different reason.

"He's still alive." Ender pointed out.

Neal took a deep breath. "What did he say?"

Ender was nonchalant. "He still hates me, and he's going to kill me. Nothing new."

"So what was the point of talking to him?" Neal snapped, clearly wishing for a better outcome.

Ender glowered at him. "It was unexpected."

"You couldn't have just shot him and ended it?" Neal shot back, to which Peter's head whipped around, giving the other man a dirty look at that suggestion.

"It's was the middle of Time Square, and I don't have a silencer, how was I supposed to make it look like an accident!?" Ender seemed perturbed by the statement because he put his hands on his hips and pouted.

"Enough." Peter raised his voice a bit more. "Ender I don't care how much you hate it, or me or anything else. I am your father, I am responsible for you. For both of you," he added with a glance at Neal. "And I will be the one to end this. I don't know the whole truth at this point, and at this time I don't want to. All I want to know is where this guy is so I can arrest him."

Ender folded his arms. "No."

"This is another one of those, non-optional things Ender. You don't get to shoot someone." Peter was trying to keep himself calm.

"I don't know where he is." Ender smirked. "We didn't exactly change exchange phone numbers."

"Then tell me what he looks like." Peter retorted.

After another dirty look from Ender and more silence, Peter tried for his second option. "Neal, draw this guy for me."

Neal paused and stared back. "I… uh…"

"Don't do it." Ender folded his arms across his chest.

"Neal." Peter growled.

Neal's shoulders sagged. He was tired of the tug of war. "Ender may be he can help us. I trust him, why don't you?"

The kid's jaw dropped at the suggestion that Neal might consider siding with Peter. "Whose side are you on?"

"The one that doesn't involve either of us ending up in a body bag. We aren't soldiers anymore. Do you really think they'll back us if something happens." Neal trusted Ender, but now that he was an adult he was beginning to question the capacity of children to solve every problem.

"The triad has never let us down." Ender replied stubbornly.

"They aren't here Ender. Look around. Do you see them? They left, knowing Madrid was after us. Sterling knew you went after him, and he just said to let you go. They're gone, but Peter is here."

Peter waited for a moment, and then he saw Ender's lip quivering.

"Fine! Do whatever you want." The kid finally snapped. "I don't care anymore. I'm tired of all this shit." With that he wretched himself out of Peter's hands and stalked away kicking at things as he went by. Cafall jumped of the couch and raced after his human, oblivious to the tension of the situation.

El, who had been standing in the doorway watching the entire seen unfold, reached out for the kid as he went by, but he ignored her and jerked away, thumb going is his mouth, and tears spilling down his cheeks.

Both men just stared at her, each with different expressions.

"_That_ could have gone better." El felt the need to point out as Ender stormed into the kitchen and kicked a chair.

Peter rose to his feet. "El he's stuck in some sort of deluded fantasy about soldiers and time-travel and government conspiracies. It sounds just like Mozzie, worse even because Mozzie doesn't talk about going around killing people."

"But yet the assistant director of the CIA showed up at your office on a whim, to verify his story. So this is all some sort of what…mass delusion?" El asked.

"Come on El…you don't really believe any of this." Peter asked. If anyone was more rational out of the two of them, it was El.

"I'm saying, maybe not everything he told you is a lie."

"And maybe this Madrid guy is a space alien from Mars." Peter muttered, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

El looked ready to respond when a crash from the kitchen caused her and the other two to start. It sounded like someone had broke a dish, but after the events of the past few days no one could be sure what it was from.

Peter pushed past El into the other room, and froze. A water glass lay smashed, the pieces strewn across the floor. Cafall stood in the corner, barking and growling at the pieces, his little stub of a tail wagging furiously as he told the glass off for breaking. Ender was in a crouch, his back against the kitchen counter, next to the sink, tears and snot smeared across a pink face.

His tiny shoulders shook from his sobs, and his fingers kept opening and closing into fists, as if he was unsure what to do with his hands. He took another incredibly shaky breath, as he stared at the broken glass.

Trying to offer comfort El stepped around a couple pieces, reaching for the hysterical child. "Sweetie, it's okay, it's just a glass."

Ender just sobbed harder. "It fell off, it fell off, everything fell off," he managed in a shuddering voice.

"Don't cry Ender, Mummy and Daddy aren't mad at you, I promise." She tried to sooth, pulling him into her arms.

"It won't go back, I tried, but everything fell off. I can't put it back." The kid continued to stammer. "I want it to go back."

El ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed his forehead. "Sweetie, the glass is broken, we can't put it back. It's okay, it doesn't matter. Well just throw it out."

If she thought the words might help they didn't, Ender just sobbed harder. "I want it to go back, make it go back." The kid clapped his hands over his ears, shaking his head back and forth in a deliberate motion. El looked up bewildered.

"Give him to me before he hurts himself," Peter stepped forward, and picked up the kid, lifting him over the broken glass. Ender kept his hands over his ears continuing to chant. "Can't put it back, can't put it back."

Neal stepped out of way, as Peter carried the kid past. He looked unnerved. He'd never seen Ender so hysterical.

The puppy scampered back out of the kitchen after his owner still barking and snapping at Peter's heels.

El looked closed to tears herself, but simply stood and grabbed a broom to begin sweeping up the broken pieces of glass.

In the living room, Peter pulled Ender into his arms. "Please kiddo, this has to stop. I'm sorry okay I upset you, it's just a glass okay, everything's all right."

"No, you don't understand." Ender screamed, struggling against the man's arms. "It fell off. Everything fell off and now it's all mixed up. I can't put it back. It's mixed up and it won't go back."

Neal had followed Peter back into the living room and now stood watching the scene unfold. Ender had never been anything but calm and controlled around him and the other soldiers. Like any good commander would act. But the experiences he had lived through had to have taken their toll. When you spent year after year locking things away, somewhere, somehow, something was going to give.

* * *

_"Now Danny I want you to relax," the kind lady was saying. "Just close your eyes and take some nice deep breaths for me."_

_Danny lay back on the couch doing his best to follow directions. He tried to focus on his breathing just like he had been taught to do. "In, out, in, out…" he slowly repeated the mantra to himself._

_"All right Danny, do you remember the room, the one in the back of your mind. It has the red door."_

_Danny slowly nodded as he thought about the door._

_"I want you to stand in front of it for me. Let me know when your there." The woman continued in a soothing voice._

_Taking more deep breaths, Danny pictured the door in his mind. There it was, right in front of him. If he reached out he could touch it. "I see it." He told her._

_"I want you to reach out, with your right hand and take the doorknob," she responded. "Carefully twist it and gently open the door. Don't force it. Don't touch anything inside. Just open the door."_

_Focusing on what he was doing Danny reached out. He could feel the coolness of the brass as his fingers closed around the knob. His hand shook, but with careful precision he opened the door and stood before the vast expanse of a closet. The inside was pristine and orderly, different sized boxes lining the shelves, some of them labelled in his neat handwriting._

_"It's open, I see the boxes," Danny whispered, staying perfectly still so he wouldn't touch anything._

_"Good," the kind lady continued. "Take down an empty one and open it up."_

_A small hand reached out and pulled one of the boxes down. With great care, Danny placed it on the floor, pulled the lid off and stared into the empty recess inside. _

_"Do you remember the fight Danny?" _

_Keeping his eyes fixed on the box Danny nodded. "Everyone was screaming, there were bullets. It was so loud."_

_"Those sounds are on a tape. You recorded them. Do you remember? It's there, in your hand. All of it. Every gunfire, every cry. It's all right there."_

_Danny's fingers closed and he felt the tape. There, hard in his grasp. "There were so many bullets," Danny repeated in a quiet voice. _

_"I know Danny," the voice was kind. "And I don't want it to be loud anymore so I want you to put the tape in the box. Can you do that? Once it's in the box you won't hear it anymore."_

_Knowing it was the only thing that would make the bullets stop, Danny put the tape in the box. It sat there in the corner, looking forlorn. But it was there, in the box. He didn't have to keep replaying it in his mind anymore."_

_"That's good Danny, now let's talk about what your saw…."_

* * *

Neal snapped back to the present. Ender was still on the ground just sobbing, his thumb now in his mouth, body rocking back and forth, as if that small motion might give him some bit of comfort.

Peter desperately held onto him, trying to calm the kid down.

"Put it back, put it back, put it back." Ender kept chanting from around his thumb.

Neal knew what it felt like. To have all those memories come crashing back, a thousand demons from your past, screaming in your mind. He really didn't know how to make it better but he would try.

* * *

**A/N:** So the goal is to make the next couple chapters focus on Neal more, but we'll see how that goes when I sit down to write. I don't know how plausible my little idea is, but I've read about people learning how to compartmentalize trauma or difficult situations to cope, so I thought the school might teach the kids how to do that, so they can handle being soldiers. Except of course when you have an emotional break, which I guess after everything Ender's been through was bound to happen. So now Neal gets to fix things. He's been needing to grow up and take responsibility for a while now, so I guess this is as good a time as any.


	16. Compromising For The Best

**A/N:** First thanks so much to everyone who has faithfully read/reviewed this story. You comments mean so much, and do help keep me motivated to finish this story.

Sorry this story has taken longer than others to complete . I keep finding myself rewriting the chapters several times, because I don't like how it connects.

For people who've been wanted to see a little more Peter/Neal, father/son relationship I tried to include it a bit here, and planning more for later.

* * *

**Compromising For The Best  
**

Neal sat in Peter's recliner watching both Peter and El fuss over Ender. The child wasn't exactly catatonic, but he has curled up into a ball, thumb firmly in his mouth, and staring at nothing.

El was currently running her fingers through blond locks, whispering soothing words and reassurances. Ender didn't seem to care.

Neal couldn't quite understand what the breaking point had been. Sure, Ender could turn the waterworks on in a heartbeat, especially if he wanted something. But this was a complete and total freak-out and Neal could not ever think of a situation where this had occurred at school.

Despite being young and small Ender was always their commander. He presented himself as infallible. Probably just the romanticesque illusions of naive children, but those memories were all Neal had. Although there had to be some truth to it, because in Neal's experience, people didn't follow incompetent leaders. And it wasn't just luck that had helped them survive all those missions.

Watching the three of them, Neal couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He had wished for a family his whole life, but even now when it was in his grasp it could never be exactly what he wanted.

He wasn't a child. Peter and El wouldn't 'raise him'. It would have been nice for Peter to coach his little league team, or take him to Yankee's games. He might even have liked sports. And he would have loved for El to write silly little notes on the napkin of his lunch for him to find, and pretend to be embarrassed about, but secretly know it meant she cared.

Sometimes he wondered why both of them had welcomed him into their home. He may have a reputation for non-violence, but he was a criminal none the less.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and Neal glanced up to realise Peter had sat down on the arm of the chair next to him.

"Are you all right?" He asked, peering into Neal's face as he tried to assess his state of mind.

Neal just shrugged. "I've been better, but I've also been a lot worse, so…" he let himself trail knowing Peter would understand.

"You're shaking," Peter commented, and Neal looked down at his hands and recognising the minute tremors running through them.

"Rough day." Neal remarked trying for one of his charming conman grins, but knowing it came out more as a grimace.

Peter nodded, then in a rare paternal gesture, grabbed the blanket lying across the back of the recliner and wrapped it around Neal's shoulders, tucking it over his trembling hands.

Neal wanted to be standoffish about it, as revenge for Peter's earlier anger, but instead just pulled the blanket tighter.

"You two keep so many secrets." Peter began in a patient voice. "And some things I don't mind. I get that those secrets are how you keep yourselves safe. But when I can't do anything to protect you…" the agent paused.

"Neal, that's my job, whether you like it or not, as your FBI partner, as your handler and as your friend. I don't know how much you and Ender have told me is the truth, and frankly at this point I really don't care. But Neal, do you have any idea how it feels when you would rather follow the orders of my six year old than me. After I have risked everything from my career to my life to protect you."

Neal looked down feeling guilty. He hadn't meant to hurt Peter, but he also couldn't betray Ender. It was an impossible choice.

"I'm not trying to hurt you Peter." He finally managed to get out. "We don't talk about this because who in their right mind would believe us. And after someone finds out they either look at us like we're crazy, or they only see us as someone they can use. He forced himself to meet the man's eyes. "Do you have any idea what it's like for someone to never see you for something other than what you can do for them?"

"Isn't that all you so called triad is doing?" Peter rolled his eyes. In a way he was angrier with them than Neal or Ender.

Neal just shook his head. "When I first met Arthur and Joan sure, they weren't 100% truthful with me. Or rather they just didn't tell me everything I was signing up for. I was a child; I couldn't have understood it all. But they were always there for us. Part of the reason we learned skills outside of being a soldier was because they wanted us to move on from that life. Sure they taught me to forge, but they also taught me to love and appreciate art for more than just a profit. And that love is something that has defined my very existence. Peter when I look back on my childhood there are things I regret or wish were different, but going to that school, doing what we did, isn't one of them. You have to believe that."

Peter looked thoughtful. "I do Neal. I honestly don't think you would have carried on with this 'life of crime' you learned from them if you hated it."

"I prefer to think of myself as an opportunist." He responded rather loftily. Then he glanced over at El and Ender. "Is he all right now?"

Peter wasn't sure, but at least the kid wasn't screaming, and he was still responding to stimuli. "You probably know better than me."

Neal shrugged. "I've never seen him lose it before. No seriously," he added at Peter's disbelieving snort. "We were in Columbia this one time, rescuing a family of American missionaries after they had kidnapped by the local drug cartel. We managed to get them out of the compound and made it to this old run-down villa with the _Sicarios, _the cartel's armed soldiers, right on our tail, and they opened fire on us. Bullets were coming through the walls, the family was screaming, it was complete chaos. And Ender's just calmly giving us orders, bullets whizzing by his head. Cool as a cucumber, even when one of the bullets grazed his arm. No matter how bad it was, he was always like that."

"So what happened?" Peter looked over at Ender, still curled up in El's arms, allowing himself to be gently rocked back and forth.

Neal paused for a moment, truly contemplating the question. "No matter how bad things got, the thing that always got us through was the knowledge that someone else from the team was there for you. Like the military. No one is left behind. We've been beaten, shot, tortured…but what always kept us going was each other and our belief that what we did saved lives. But to let someone else in, that was suicide, it's just not done. I think I broke that trust, and I don't know how to fix it."

Peter still didn't understand, but what Neal was telling him was personal. And he didn't want to mess this up again. "That sounds like a lot of pressure you guys were under."

Neal looked up. "I think in some ways we were too young to realise just how much. Heck, I can remember getting Medals of Honour from the president after one mission and we could have cared less. All we knew was we were getting pizza and ice-cream at the reception, and they were taking us to an amusement park the next day. We wanted to ride the roller coasters."

"Wow, if I had known motivating you was that simple…" Peter let his voice trail off.

The conman just chuckled, then shivered and pulled the blanket even closer.

"Do you want another blanket, or some coffee?" Peter suddenly asked.

Neal just shook his head. "If you really want this fixed you have to let me leave."

"No," Peter didn't even hesitate.

"I'm serious Peter." Neal looked him in the eyes. "I'm not asking to go after Madrid. I'm saying something is wrong and I can't fix it. But I know who can."

The agent reached in his pocket and held out his cell phone. "Then you call him."

Neal shook his head. "I have to have this conversation with him face-to-face. And it has to be alone."

Peter looked at Neal's face and knew that if he was to get any sort of cooperation he would have to compromise a little bit. "Fine, I'll have Jones or Diana take you. God knows I can't leave again."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later Jones dropped Neal off in front of Sterling and Bosch headquarters, and Neal walked with some trepidation towards the building.

He hadn't exactly called ahead, but knowing Patchett's workaholic tendencies he would be here.

The receptionist at the front desk called up and Neal soon found himself being escorted by a burly security guard who reminded him a bit of Remy.

"Come in," came a voice in response to the knock on the door, and Neal pushed it open and silently entered.

"Escaped custody?" Sterling sat behind his desk, case files spread across the surface.

"I'm in my radius, I can go where I please." Neal plopped down in the chair across from the desk and glared.

Sterling just smirked. "Is that what you keep telling yourself?"

"I didn't come here for you to patronise me." Neal responded petulantly.

"Clearly."

"I came here for help." The conman crossed his arms.

"No promises, but what's wrong now. I just saw you guys an hour ago."

"I suggested to Ender that we ask Peter for some help and he lost it. Screaming, breaking dishes, sobbing, tears – lost it. I've never seen him out of control before."

Sterling looked amused. "The operative word being 'seen'."

Neal stared at him.

"Oh please Neal, you guys were children. Children throw tantrums. He just didn't throw them in front of you. It would be bad form."

"He kept screaming about how everything fell off. He's practically catatonic now."

The man gave him a thoughtful look. Then reached for one of the folders on his desk and flipping it open placed the folder in front of Neal. "So the Louvre contacted our Paris office earlier today. Apparently someone thought it would be funny to rearrange all the paintings on the top floor complete with signs about the Louvre's new interactive "picture find" tour."

Neal stared at the photos and gave a soft chuckle. "Sounds like something Parker would do."

"Exactly." Sterling rolled his eyes. "So now I have to call her up and listen to her whine for an hour about how she never gets to have any fun, before I yell at her to put everything back."

"Wait, Jeszie really did this? I thought she, Jax and Remy were off playing Robin Hood for the 'victims of the rich and powerful'?" Neal finger quoted.

"Oh they are," Sterling waved his hand. "She says she's keeping her skills up."

"You're sure Jeszie did this?"

"She texted me a picture of her hugging the Mona Lisa, frame and all. At least she didn't draw a moustache on it."

Neal paused for a moment, and then just began laughing. It felt good. To still be able to find things funny in the midst of this crazy situation he was in. "You know, she probably wouldn't try to piss you off so much if you didn't keep trying to arrest us."

"Please…" Sterling scoffed. "Can you imagine the trouble you guys would get into if I wasn't keeping tabs on your lot? Consider yourself lucky I'm not really trying to catch you."

"Do they know that?" The banter was back. It had defined their relationship at the school. The playful ping-pong match of words that broke the monotone of study and training.

"Do you really think Jeszie would be sending me pictures otherwise? Although I could have done without the one of her mooning the security guard."

Neal laughed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"No to anything illegal." An amused smile twitched at Sterling's lips.

"Why did you let Peter arrest you?" Neal blurted out. "Why did you let me blow your operation?" It was a question Neal had pondered for months afterwards.

"And if I had, would you be working for Peter now?" Sterling asked.

Neal thought about it. "I identified you as the Dutchman, lied and knowingly let the wrong person be arrested. I'd probably be making the next tick on my cell wall right now."

"Agent Burke is a good man. I knew he'd give you the chance to do some good. May be you'd remember that little boy who once wanted to change the world. As I recall you rather liked him."

"I still do." Neal answered staring down at his hands. "And working with Peter has been…I couldn't ask for anything better."

"So what do you say we make sure that continues to happen by finishing this problem once and for all."

"I can't lie to Peter." Neal told him, he wanted to make that absolutely clear.

Sterling shrugged. "I'm not asking you to. Let's go." He hopped up and grabbed his jacket as he headed for the door.

"Where?" Neal fell into an easy step behind him.

"I've got to smack a certain kid upside the head and tell him to stop being a brat and then we've got a psychopath to find."

* * *

**A/N:** In case anyone is wondering, Parker/Jeszie is from Leverage (just known as Parker in the show), which is where Sterling comes from. In this universe Parker, Eliot (Remy) and Hardison (Jax) were all part of the team of seven Neal was in.

Hopefully this story will be rapping up soon, and then onto another. I'm debating about posting one with Ender in another universe, although I don't want to stop writing White Collar fics, so I'd also plan another for here. I was considering a wife-swap fic, because I saw some reruns of the show and thought it be a fun writing challenge. If I did that I'm not sure what type of family to swap with the Burkes. Any suggestions. I want it to stay realistic.


	17. Takes One To Know One

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter has taken so long. Been figuring out how I want this to end. No this is not the last chapter, but I am getting close. This is mainly some fun banter between Neal and Sterling, and Sterling setting Ender straight. For all you Leverage fans out there I hope I did Sterling's character justice. Let me know. :) Cheers!

* * *

**Takes One To Know One**

About forty-five minutes later the pair pulled up to the Burke's residents in Sterling's sleek Porsche Boxster. Late at night it was usually impossible for someone to find a parking space on a residential street of New York City, but as Neal noted with some irritation, Sterling always had that sort of luck.

"I thought Interpol agents don't make that much?" Neal commented as he climbed out, letting his hands linger on the soft leather seats. He really wanted a car, and borrowing June's didn't count. Something classic, like the one he'd borrowed when he first escaped prison.

Sterling looked amused. "But the president of a high profile insurance company does." He replied as he shut his door, and hopped up on the curb.

Neal thought about that for a moment suddenly perking up, as if something had just occurred to him. "Do you ever hire consultants? I authenticated that Raphael for you guys. I have invaluable skills that could be put to use…for a small fee."

Sterling graciously ignored the fact that the Raphael Neal was referring to was the very painting he had stolen and only returned to avoid jail time. "You seem to be doing all right." The man pushed open the front gate and held it for Neal.

"I only get $700 a month which is used to pay my rent." Neal pouted, taking about twenty years off his age.

Sterling began to laugh. "Try, again, that's a $2000 suit Nealcen."

"My landlady took pity on me. These are her husbands. I can't even say I own the shirt off my own back."

"Poor Caffrey, having to slum it living in a tiny apartment on Riverside drive, wearing hand-me-down designer suits, and dining on someone else's wine and caviar. So sad."

Neal gave a scornful glare. As true as Sterling's words were, it was rather frustrating when the man said it like that. "Don't make a mockery of my life."

"You seem to be doing a good enough job of that on your own."

"So will you hire me?" Neal tried again, using his sad eyes. After all, it worked on Peter.

"Give me a call when that anklet comes off." Sterling jerked his head toward Neal's left foot. "I mean it Neal," the man told a disbelieving Neal's. "When the anklet comes off. At the end of your sentence, not for a case," Sterling quickly tacked on when Neal's eyes lit up.

"You sure I can't get some work be…"

"No," Sterling cut in off.

"You really hire ex-cons," Neal tried a different tactic as he bounced back and forth from one foot to another.

"I'm president of the company."

"And you're Triad. Any chance I can use my get out of jail free card now, get out of my sentence?" Neal asked as they stood at the front door.

"Any chance you've learned your lesson and decided to stay on the straight and narrow?" Sterling responded and when Neal did nothing but chew on his lip, "Yeah that's what I thought. Finish your sentence. From what I understand it's light for a man with your alleged rap sheet." He pushed the doorbell and a minute later the door swung open.

"Agent Burke," The insurance investigator put a grin on his face. "Thank you for inviting me in." And with that he stepped past the agent, glancing around at the living room. "Nice, your wife is clearly the one with good taste."

Neal gave Peter an apologetic shrug and stepped inside as well.

"You must be Mrs. Burke, we meet as last." Sterling noticed Elizabeth, giving her a pleasant smile as he crossed the room and offered his hand.

She took it, looking rather bewildered. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"James Sterling, president of Sterling Bosch."

"Sarah's company?"

Sterling dropped down on the leather sofa by the front windows and propped his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring El's raised eyebrow at his bold move. "I also dabble in Interpol. Love to travel. Even better when it's on the agency's dime. Big expense account."

Elizabeth gave Peter a sidelong glance as if to ask 'who is this jerk'. Neal could attest that Sterling had that effect on people. "So you own an insurance company but work for Interpol. Anything else I should know about you?"

The man shrugged in response. "Your husband arrested me a few years ago. Fortunately unlike most of the people he arrests," a glance was thrown in Neal's direction, "I'm completely innocent."

"The Dutchman." He added with a smirk.

Elizabeth just stared at him. "Neal's first case? The Dutchman was convicted of forging the Spanish Victory Bond? He even signed them." She gestured briefly towards the leather couch where Sterling was sitting, the same couch she and Neal had sat one when he had show her the 'CH' on the pants of the Spanish peasant. "That was you? How can you be innocent?"

Sterling laughed. "Curtis Hagan forged the Victory Bond. I'm not him. Oh don't worry…" he continued at seeing her expression. "The real Hagan is currently serving 25 to life for bond forgery and accessory to murder. I was undercover."

El glanced from Sterling to Peter and then back again. "What's going on here?"

Sterling ignored the question with an aloof air, and looked around. "Where's the munchkin? Ender."

"In his room." Peter replied. "He's exhausted."

"Go get him." Sterling jerked his chin towards the stairs. "I'll wait."

Nobody moved.

"I can't help him if he's not here. That is the reason you sent Caffrey to find me, his little meltdown. It certainly wasn't because you wanted to have tea and biscuits together, although I wouldn't turn down coffee if you offered some." A smirk played across Sterling's face.

"He only just calmed down. I don't want to upset him again." El wrung her hands. She didn't care if Neal knew this man. He came across as an arrogant jerk.

"Oh good grief," Sterling rolled his eyes. "You want this problem fixed, stop letting him be a brat. He may be a genius, but that doesn't give him the right to do whatever he wants. I realise you guys are new to this whole raising children thing, but that's Parenting 101."

"He's traumatised." El told him.

"He's a bloody little con artist. I should know I taught him. Now call his ass down."

Peter looked rather helplessly at Neal like he wasn't sure what they had gotten themselves into.

Sterling didn't seem to like to wait because suddenly he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Ender, get down here."

"What the hell," Peter cringed. "We have neighbours you know."

"I think you can handle the cops if they show up on a domestic disturbance charge _Agent_ Burke." The insurance investigator rolled his eyes then turned toward the stairs. "Took you long enough."

Ender stood on the bottom step his arms folded and bottom lip jutted out. "You're a horrible person," he sulked, "I was playing with my puppy and you interrupted me".

"And I feel awful about that," Sterling said in a mocking tone, snapping his fingers and pointed at the coffee table in front of him, gesturing for Ender to come sit.

Ender ignored him and stuck out his lip further, eyes shifting around taking in all the exits. Peter was used to seeing that look on Neal when he was getting ready to run.

"That lip is only cute when you're not acting like an idiot and trying to get yourself killed." Sterling told him, point once again at the table.

"I'm always cute," Ender replied, still sulking. "Everyone says so."

"And you're about to lose your privileges, starting with that hook you stole and ending with all this." Sterling gestured around the room, ignoring El's sudden incredulous expression to his statement. The man held out his hand jerking his fingers towards himself, gesturing that Ender should hand him something.

"I hate you." Ender screamed.

Sterling just cocked his head. "Well, we live in a free society and you're entitled to your opinion. Now since you can see I clearly don't care what you think about me stop acting like a brat and may be we'll have something to talk about. Hook!" He commanded again, his hand still held out.

Ender looked around the room with big eyes, clearly pleaded for help, but none came. Finally with tears, he walked forward, pulled from his pocket what looked like an iphone and placed it in Sterling's outstretched hand.

The kid folded his arms more tightly, lower lip quivering, breaths beginning to heave again.

"You work yourself up, you'll stand 'pistols' for an hour."

Ender's fingers twitched, as he visibly tried to gain control of himself.

"And you put that thumb in your mouth I will cut it off." Sterling added.

Ender opened and closed his fist, struggling and failing to get control of his breaths. Just when El looked ready to step forward and punch Sterling, which Neal would have paid good money to see, the man reached up and grasped Ender's tiny hands in his own. Gently, he massaged the palms of the kid's hands with his thumb and index finger. "Close the door Ender," he said, much kinder than anyone would have expected.

Ender shook his head furiously, tears in his eyes. "Everything fell off," he managed in a small voice.

"I know," Sterling told him. "We'll put it back later. Right now, close the door so we can fix this."

Ender's small fists suddenly clenched around Sterling's hands as he took another deep breath, then he seemed to calm himself down, and he took a step back face clear.

The man smiled. "Better. Now…" He clapped his hands on his legs. "Why the nervous breakdown? You usually wait to have those after an assignment is over, when no one's watching."

"You wouldn't let me take Madrid out." Ender pouted.

"That's mature, pitch a fit because you didn't get what you want."

"No one said I'm mature." Ender mocked, now that he had regained most of his composure.

"I think that's something everyone here can agree on." Neal chimed in and Ender scowled in his direction.

"And, no one in their right mind would give you a gun right now." Sterling added.

"But I can do it."

Sterling nodded. "You're right. I hand you a gun, and you're a good enough shot, you could end this. But I'm not going to let you. Not when you're like this, because you won't shoot for the right reasons."

Ender folded his arms again. "How do you know?"

Sterling merely raised his eyebrows.

"I'm the one who told Nealcen to contact you when we got the photos. The only reason I got upset is because they think I'm crazy." He stabbed his finger at Peter and El.

"No, you got upset because Neal suggested finding Madrid another way besides yours, Second you can only blame yourself because you were the one who could have just said the person in the picture was your father, and this entire problem would have been avoided. No one would have corrected you."

Ender looked down, mumbling something to himself.

"Didn't catch that," Sterling sounded rather amused, like he already knew what Ender had said.

"I said, I didn't think of that," Ender repeated, with a glare.

"Need I say more?" Sterling replied. "So," he stood up. "Now that we've go that settled, let's move on to the little topic of Madrid, don't speak..." He added as Ender opened his mouth again. "I was talking to the adults in this room."

The kid glared again, but pinched his lips together.

Sterling turned back to Peter who was staring at him, his mouth partway open. "I have no problem with using the FBI to take out Madrid, but you have to understand you don't know this man. We do. You want to do this with minimal loss of life, you listen to what we have to say."

Peter stared at him for a moment. "I can live with that."

"Wait, you want to go after some psychotic murderer. When did we agree on this?" El had her hands on her hips.

"Uh," Peter pulled at the collar of his shirt, while El glared at him. He hated that look.

"Mrs. Burke," Sterling cut in, in a patronising tone, "this man won't stop until he settles his score. So we either stop him, or you will be planning a funeral, possibly more than one."

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid." She snapped. "Peter told me about Madrid, I may not understand everything about Ender, but for now I can accept it. I talking about sending two people I care about after a psychopath. That it what this discussions about."

Sterling regarded her for a moment then shot a sidewise smile at Peter. "I can see who wears the pants in your marriage."


End file.
